Companion For Hire
by OyHumbug
Summary: Marissa Cooper caught her fiance cheating on her two weeks before their wedding, dumped him, but now is facing the daunting task of seeing him and his new fiance at her ten year high school reunion. Unable to find a date, she takes a drastic measure. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Companion for Hire**

Chapter One

Marissa Cooper was content with her life. Sure, she was single and had not had sex since her fiancé had left her for another woman, and maybe she was bothered by the fact that she had relatively few close friends, acquaintances, yes, friends no, but, in general, she couldn't complain about her life. After all, it could always be worse. While there were things she would change about herself and her existence if she could, there were many things about her life that she loved. Though small, she had a happy family. With her Mom and her sister, she knew she always had someone there to encourage and care for her. Not only were they her support system, but they were also her best friends, and she was theirs as well. Plus, she had a wonderful job working as a buyer for the Saks Department Store chain, an amazing apartment that overlooked the ocean, a fast car, a cushy bank account, a wardrobe to die for, her health, and two of the cutest kittens imaginable. Yes, she mused to herself as she walked along the path that led to her Mother's expansive back patio, after twenty eight years, she was happy and at peace with herself.

"Mom," her light, still girlish voice called out for the illusive Julie Cooper, "where are you?"

As was customary, they were meeting for Sunday brunch. Because both women lived hectic lives, Sunday mornings and afternoons were designated as their time to spend together. They would either meet at one another's house or at a restaurant, eat decadent food, and relax the hours away while they shared the news of their life and interesting anecdotes from their previous week. Their cell phones would get turned off, no one ever knew where they were, and the rest of the world disappeared as they just focused upon each other and their relationship. The two women had not always been close, especially during Marissa's teenage years, but, after realizing where their priorities should lie, their bond strengthened and a real, loving relationship was forged between them.

"I'm coming," the effervescent red head called out to her daughter as she descended the numerous stairs out of her house to join her. "Sorry about that, running late, but my yoga instructor stayed later than he was supposed to."

"Was this the one that actually gives you lessons or was this the one you practice your newfound flexibility on?"

After several failed marriages that left her bank account flush and her sexual appetite ravenous, Julie Cooper, her other numerous last names dropped for convenience purposes, had decided it was time to limit the men in her life to two roles: platonic friendship, which mainly consisted of her personal shoppers, hair dressers, manicurists, and interior designer, all of whom were not interested in joining her other category of men, and sex toys, all of whom were younger, vainer, and more materialistic than she was. Marissa couldn't understand how this type of existence could be enough for her Mom, how she could settle for numerous loveless relationships instead of one meaningful one, but as long as Julie was happy and not interfering in her life, she would not interfere in Mother's.

Quirking one of her finely shaped eyebrows at her daughter, the older woman answered, "why would Maurice," the actual yoga professional, "stay over longer than necessary. That would just cost me more."

"And that's what I love about you, Mom," Marissa teased, pulling out a chair and sitting down to the umbrella covered table they would be eating brunch at. "Your lifestyle is so extraordinarily unpractical, but you always manage to make everything you do sound so sensible."

"Aren't we the cheeky one," Julie volleyed back, taking her seat as well. As the maid brought forth the generous amounts of food the red head had called out and hadcatered for the weekly meal, the older woman spread her napkin delicately across her lap and motioned for her daughter to start eating. "Please," she commanded playfully, "nourish that waif-life body of yours. Not only will it make you bigger than I am, but it will also keep your mouth shut."

"How's Caitlyn?" The instruction her Mother gave her went ignored. "The last time I heard from her was a couple of days ago, and she was on her way to pawn some of your jewelry in order to pay her rent. Is she alright?"

"She's fine, no thanks to your help," Julie groused. "Despite the fact that you did not call to warn me about my stolen possessions, I managed to figure out what she was up to before she made it to the pawn shop, bought the pieces back from her at a very generous price since she claimed she was holding them hostage and I had to pay her ransom money for them, and then proceeded to follow her as she went and spent all the money on questionable purchases of her favorite illegal substance."

"What about her rent?"

"It turns out," the red head explained, "that she decided to let her apartment go and is now house sitting for a friend that is going on an extended vacation to Europe."

"Well for how long," Marissa questioned, concerned for her younger sister, "and what is she going to do when the friend comes back? Where is she going to store her furniture? She's still going to keep her job even though she'll have no expenses now, right?"

Throwing her hands up in aggravation at her younger daughter, Julie exclaimed, "I don't know! When has Caitlyn ever told me what her plans were, let alone do anything responsible and plan ahead? This is your baby sister we're talking about here. She's not you; she's not the one who makes list, pays all her bills early, and is slightly neurotic when it comes to being prepared for anything. Caitlyn's my free spirit."

"She's you twenty-five years ago," the younger woman quipped, smirking in self-congratulations when her Mother went to reply but couldn't say anything to refute the perceptive comment. "Let's talk about something else though. I'll need to save some of my questions for Caitlyn herself when we meet up next Friday to go shopping after work."

"Tell me about you then. What have you been up to this week? How was work?"

"Work was….work, hectic, crazy, and absolutely wonderful," Marissa gushed. "Did I tell you that I get to go to fashion week in Milan this year instead of New York? It's an all expenses paid trip, too. I'll be staying at a five star hotel, eating at the most delectable Italian restaurants, and sitting front row at every single show." Pausing for effect, she only continued when she was positive she had her Mother's enraptured attention. "And the best part is, I'm allowed to take someone with me, any little fashion lover I choose."

"Perhaps you'll have a boyfriend to take with you instead," Julie responded tentatively, dropping her dark, mascara lengthened lashes down to hide the mischievous glimmer in her twinkling green eyes. "After all, Italy and especially Milan is a very romantic city. Or you could even meet an attractive, wealthy member of a respected, royal family."

Groaning, the younger woman complained, "Mom! I thought you agreed to back off on these matchmaking ideas you have for me."

"I did! I let you sit around your depressing apartment…"

"I like my depressing apartment, thank you very much," the blonde interrupted impertinently.

"….moping and brooding for six months," Julie finished her statement. "It's time you let the past go and move on." Her daughter simply glared at her. "Come on, Marissa! I'm not saying you should go out and fall madly in love with the first man who salivates in your direction, but you need to start dating again eventually. Yes, your fiancé cheated on you, and you broke up with him. It happens all the time."

"We were together since we were eleven, high school sweethearts, prom king and queen, the couple everyone voted to live happily ever after, engaged in college, and planning to spend the rest of our lives together." Sniffling, she held back her tears. "I should be married right now, maybe even expecting my first child, but instead I got dumped two weeks before my wedding, and I'm sorry if you don't approve of me still being upset about that fact, but I just watched seventeen years of my life disintegrate into nothing!"

"And it should have happened a long time ago," the older woman snapped back. "Luke treated you horribly. He dismissed your ideas, your interests, belittled you in front of your friends, controlled you, and made you feel as if you needed him in your life to be something. If I would have had my way, you would have left him about sixteen and half years ago." Taking a deep breath, she pressed on, her tone softer and more soothing. "Marissa, sweetheart, he didn't deserve you, and he sure as hell does not deserve your turning yourself into a nun. You're young, beautiful, successful, witty, and any man would be damn lucky to have you, so get out there, show the rest of the world and Luke Ward what they're missing by not being with you. I mean, he's moved on…"

"Excuse me?"

Julie's eyes flew open in shock. She had not meant to reveal the latest Newport gossip to her still hurting daughter that way, but she was trapped, and, looking into Marissa's conflicted, haunted, baby blue eyes, she knew she would have to explain. "He's engaged again…to the woman he cheated on you with. They've even bought a house together already."

"What Luke does with his life is no longer my concern," Marissa dismissed. "If he wants to settle for a slut who he picked up drunk at a bar, then that's his business. I really don't see what this has to do with me, because there's no way I'm going to make a fool out of myself and jump into bed with the first decent looking man I meet like he did. His marriage is going to be over in a few years; I want to find a relationship that lasts forever."

"Of course you do, honey, but I just…I wanted you to be prepared when you see them."

Confused, the blonde pondered in a soft voice, "what? Why would I have to see them? It's not as if we run in the same circles anymore."

"Did you forget about your ten year high school reunion that's coming up in two weeks, you know the one where you're going to be spending a weekend at a resort with all your former classmates, the one you already RSVP'd for," Julie's eyes fell away from her daughter's, and her voice dropped in volume before she completed the statement, "yourself…and a guest."

"I'm not going!"

"But you have to, don't you see that?" When Marissa simply crossed her arms in contrary discord, the older woman explained. "If you don't show up, they're going to automatically assume that you're too afraid to face Luke, that you're still hung up on him, and that you're hiding away with your cats eating pints of ice cream every night while watching cheesy chic flicks, and I refuse to let you let them think that of you. You're Julie Cooper's daughter after all, and Cooper women don't cry over spilled Cristal; we always get the last word, we always pay back those who have hurt us, and we most definitely make them regret that they ever disrespected us."

"Mom, it's spilled milk."

"Baby, if you're drinking milk, there are worse things in your life to cry about besides a broken heart," Julie teased, making her daughter smile. "Now, I know that you're not seeing anyone right now, but we have two weeks to find you a drop dead gorgeous billionaire with a heart of gold. I'll just call some of the girls from the club…."

"Wait a second, Heidi Fleiss, stop right there. You will not be setting me up," the younger woman replied vehemently. "If I do this, and that's a big if, I will find my own date."

"But you're practically a hermit! How are you going to meet the next up and coming bachelor who has the bank account of Mark Cuban and the looks of an Abercrombie Fitch model?"

"First of all," Marissa announced, standing up and gathering her things from the chair beside her, "I don't want another typical, spoiled, selfish Newport heir. I want someone who's real, who's with me for me and not for the bottom line of my bank account. Secondly, the last time you tried to set Caitlyn up on a date, she ended up with an arrogant ass who left her at the restaurant for the waitress before their appetizers were even served, so your matchmaking track record speaks for itself. And finally, I'm twenty eight years old. If I can't find my own date, then it's time I got out of the game."

"Fair enough….," her voice trailed off as she watched her daughter walk away on the same stone path that had led her into the backyard a half an hour before. "Where are you going?"

"Home. I have things to do if I'm going to this reunion."

Marissa Cooper was suddenly not so content with her life. While she was single and lonely both emotionally and physically, her former fiancé, who just so happened to be her high school sweetheart, was engaged to another woman…the same woman he had cheated on her with, and the fact that she had relatively few close friends, acquaintances, yes, friends no, made it so that she couldn't simply ask someone to pretend to be her date. Yes, she could definitely complain about her life. After all, could it be any worse? If she could, she would change everything about herself and her existence. Her family knew she was unhappy and tortured her with the knowledge that she needed to reenter the dating circle. With her Mom and her sister, she knew she always had someone there to push and pressure her into doing things she really didn't want to do…like confronting her ex at her ten year high school reunion. What made it even worse was that they were her best friends, too. Who were best friends with their family? She hadn't been promoted at work in years, her apartment was simply a bachelorette pad, her car had a dent in the rear fender where she had accidentally backed into a shopping cart when getting groceries a week before, she didn't invest her money like any wise woman should, her wardrobe was drab and boring, consisting of pieces any Newport belle could own, she had two pimples threatening to become more, and her only constant companions were her two kittens. Yes, she mused to herself as she walked along the path that led her back to her car, she was a grumpy, frumpy, romantically stumped crazy cat lady! Her life was a disaster!

\ \ \

"Hi, Brian. This is Marissa….Marissa Cooper. We work together, well, I mean, not together…together, but we both work for Saks, me as a purchaser and you in marketing. I remember talking to you at the Christmas party last year. …. Um, yeah, I was actually calling to ask a favor of you. It's really a pretty funny story actually. You see, my Mom went and RSVP'd for me for my ten year high school reunion, and she put down two people, but I don't have a date. So I was wondering…. Oh, you're married. …. Yeah, of course, no, I understand completely. Sorry to bother you. Thanks anyway."

\ \ \

"Travis, long time, no chat! How have you been? …. This is Marissa Cooper. We were friends in college, remember? You would always come to me for fashion advice, and I would get relationship tips from you. ….Yeah, that's me, the one who used to date the water polo asshole. …. Luke and I, no, we broke up. …. Actually, he cheated on me, and that's kind of why I'm calling. My ten year high school reunion is coming up in two weeks, and I need a date. …. Oh, that's okay; I'll pay for your travel expenses. …. I'm sure you'll be able to get it off. It's on the weekend, the whole weekend actually. …. Yes, that means we'd be sharing a room. Is that a problem? … Oh, you're gay. I see. …. Suddenly, our past relationship makes more sense now. …. Yeah, of course, no hard feelings. It was good to talk to you, too. Bye."

\ \ \

"Hello, this is Marissa Cooper calling for Chad Jennings. …. Oh, hi, Mrs. Jennings, how are you? …. I'm good, too. …. No, single and no kids. …. No, I didn't join a convent. …. Chad, Mrs. Jennings, is he there, or do you have his number so I could get in touch with him? It's kind of important and definitely time sensitive. …. He's dead?! …. I'm so sorry; really, I had no idea. …. Thanks, um, anyway."

\ \ \

"Hi, is Tom there? This is Marissa Coo…. ….. Tom Davidson. …. Oh, wrong number. Yeah, sorry for bothering you."

\ \ \

"Hey, this is Marissa Cooper. Are you Kris, the Kris Sterling who used to go to Newport Union? …. Excuse me? …. You're Kristina now. I don't get it. …. Holy shit! You had a sex change?! …. I was actually, um, calling to ask you out….not as a date…date but for my high school reunion. …. I know we haven't talked to each other in ten years, I was desperate. …. Well, not that desperate! …. I'm sorry, I have to go."

\ \ \

The negative responses kept coming in, and, as Marissa leaned down on top of her desk, resting her weary face against the open pages of the thick, weapon-esque phone book, her polite replies to the rejections washed over her in a dizzying wave of self-doubt and shame. _'You're just not interested. I understand.' 'You have a girlfriend, a mistress, and a wife already. Of course you don't need a pity date as well.' 'Why would you want to go to my high school reunion with me if you didn't go to your own?' 'You never liked me in the first place. Good to know.' 'Of course you don't date patients, Dr. Olson, and, don't worry, I'll bring in Ariel and Sebastian next week for a check up. Thanks.' 'You're allergic to hotel rooms. Yeah, I really believe that excuse! Thanks for nothing, ass!' 'You're going to be in jail that weekend. Well, good luck with that.' 'You want my Mom's number after you shot me down so rudely? Go to hell!' _Just when she thought the refusals couldn't get any worse, they always did.

"That's it," she cried out to herself in a fit of rage. "My life is over; I'll never be able to show my face in this town…hell this state again after this latest debacle. I should just throw in the towel now, give up. Hey, while I'm at it, why not plan my own funeral? It seems to be a fitting end to this unproductive, humiliating day." With that thought in mind, Marissa's nimble fingers began to flip through the yellow pages, quickly searching for the numerous local funeral directors. Instead, however, as if it was providence, her eyes landed on an ad for male escorts. "What the hell," she rationalized. "At least they can't turn me down." And with that, she picked up her cell one more time, quickly dialed the 1-800 number, and waited for someone to pick up.

Twenty minutes later and five thousand dollars poorer, she had herself a date for the reunion, a splitting headache, and a permanent blush on her high cheek bones. It might not have been how she or Julie had imagined she would get a date, but she wasn't out of the game yet.

\ \ \

"No, I'm not taking smutty lingerie, Mother! We barely know each other," _a lie_ _– she didn't know him at all_, "so there's no way anything physical is going to happen this weekend. We're friends." _Another lie_. "And even if we weren't, I'm not that kind of girl. I don't put out that easily." _The third lie: she basically NEVER put out._

"Why not, Marissa? Just think of this weekend as a vacation not only from your apartment and your cats but also as a vacation from yourself. Let go, do something crazy, have an orgasm," Julie instructed, giggling to herself when she heard her daughter mumble incoherent complaints under her breath about her lack of propriety. "If you don't have sex soon, you're going to forget how to do it. It's not just like riding a bike no matter what people might say."

"Even if that would forget how to," Marissa snapped back, "I'm sure you'd be able to write a how-to instruction manual to refresh my memory!"

"You know," the older woman mused thoughtfully with no trace of annoyance or hurt in her voice, "that's a pretty good idea. I could make millions off of a sex book, detailing all my past experiences and offering advice. Of course, I'd have to publish it anonymously. You know how these rich, snobby socialites are in this town; they'd ostracize me forever if I publicly…."

"It was just a joke," the blonde interrupted. "And if you ever, EVER do anything like that, EVER, I will change my name, renounce you as my Mother, and have my eyes permanently sewed shut just so that I'd never accidentally stumble across even a sentence of that trash rag!"

"Don't wrinkle your La Perla," Julie commanded. "Now, calm down and tell me what you packed."

"Just a little bit of this and a little bit of that."

Knowing the younger woman all too well, the red head pushed, "how many suitcases are waiting at your bedroom door for your date to carry out to the car?"

"I don't have time to count right now," Marissa barked.

"If there's so many that you'd have to count them to know, then you definitely have too much. I want you to put away have of everything you packed."

"And I want you to go and harass your younger daughter for a while," the blonde quipped. "Seriously, Mom, he's going to be here any second. I don't have time for this."

Curious, Julie, instead of hanging up, simply asked more questions. "What's his name, where did you meet him, what does he do, and, most importantly, what does he look like?"

"You don't need to know his name, how we met is none of your business, it shouldn't matter what he does, and I'm not telling you what he looks like, because you have a terrible reputation for coveting other people's boyfriends…even if they're your own daughters'."

"But he's not your boyfriend," Julie pointed out snidely, "and, according to you, the poor guy has no chance of getting any, so why no share him with me?"

"We're not having this discussion! Now, listen up and listen closely." Taking a deep breath, Marissa tried to calm herself, to quell her frustration before continuing. "This is just one weekend. We're going to go to this ridiculous and irrelevant reunion, make nice with the spoiled snobs and judgmental jocks I went to high school with, and, in all likelihood, by the time Sunday rolls around, he'll be so sick of me, I'll never see him again. End of story."

"But why can't it be more than that," the red head argued. "Why can't you just give this guy a shot? Sure, it'll probably amount to nothing, but will it hurt you to try?"

Saving her the hassle of continuing the disagreement they had been having for the past two weeks, the doorbell sounded throughout the apartment, alerting Marissa to the fact that her date…_err…escort_…was there. "Oh, would you listen to that," she taunted. "I've been saved by the bell, how passé but fantastic at the same time."

"Just think about what I said…."

"Sorry, Mom, I can't. I have to go. It's been a blast talking to you, as always, but hell awaits me."

Although she could hear her Mother calling her name in an agitated manner, she flipped her cell closed anyway, tossing it into her purse which was positioned on top of the mountain range of luggage piled haphazardly by her bedroom door before running out of the room and towards the entrance to her apartment. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she called out ahead of her own scurrying form. Swinging the door open, she immediately began to apologize. "Sorry about that. Mothers, you can't live with them and you can't kill them without being sent to jail for at least thirty years, so what are you going to do?" His back was towards her as he surveyed the open courtyard of her building's complex, apparently appreciating the beachside views the expensive two bedroom, two bathroom townhouse apartment afforded her. "Anyway, won't you please come in? I'm almost ready." As he started turning around, she held out her hand to introduce herself. "I'm Marissa Cooper, and I assume you're my very own American Gigolo."

"Actually," the blonde haired, blue eyed man standing across from her replied rather curtly, "I prefer to be considered a companion for hire, but you can call me Ryan. Ryan Atwood."

And, just like that, his rough, calloused hand grasped hers tightly, but Marissa didn't feel their joined palms moving in a formal greeting, she didn't hear him commenting upon her idyllic apartment, nor did she see the raw, sexual appreciation shining through his eyes as he gazed upon her beautiful body. All she could think about, taste, smell, see, hear, and touch was the overwhelming attraction she was experiencing towards her employed date. It was going to be a long…._very interesting_….weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"So, are we just going to stand here all day or…"

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that….this, come in," Marissa gestured through to the living room of her apartment as she held the door open for the man she was going to be spending the weekend with. "I'm all packed. My bags are in my room…just down the hallway."

"If you want," Ryan offered graciously, "I could carry them outside for you."

"Would you? That would be great. Just let me say goodbye to Ariel and Sebastian, and then we'll be able to get going."

Surprised, he stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at her. "You have kids?"

"What….no!" Just as confused as he was, she pointed to a pair of sleeping cats reclined out upon her couch so that their bodies occupied as much space as possible. "They're my kittens."

"They look more like cats…and fat ones at that." When she glared at him, he stopped talking and just watched her curiously.

"They're not fat," Marissa contradicted as she picked up the first one, a cat with long, deep orange, almost red, fur. "I just tend to over feed them slightly, but they'll grow into their extra body weight. They're still young."

"And I take it that one is Ariel," Ryan guessed, smirking. "Little Mermaid fan, are we?"

She simply said, "perhaps," before kissing the still sleeping cat goodbye and picking up the second.

"That doesn't explain Sebastian's name though," he continued. Neither of them had any idea why he was pursuing the inconsequential conversation. "With his light fur, it would have made more to name him Flounder or even Triton."

"Sebastian isn't named after The Little Mermaid; he's named after Cruel Intentions. I used to love that movie when I was a little girl."

"You had a messed up childhood, didn't you?" When she simply shrugged her shoulders in a motion that neither dismissed his statement nor confirmed it, he turned around and moved down the hallway towards her room, mumbling under his breath. "Man, I don't want to meet your Mother."

And in less than ten minutes Marissa had managed to accomplish both of her first two goals: make Ryan volunteer to carry her luggage to the car and turn him away from Julie Cooper's clutches. If the weekend continued moving along just as smoothly, her five thousand dollar investment in an escort would turn out to be wise and even an inexpensive way to regain her dignity. That was if no one discovered their ruse.

"You're either going to have to call a U-Haul truck to cart all this luggage to the hotel, or you're going to have to leave behind about 95 of all that you packed, because there's no way this is all going to fit in that little car out front." Ryan's masculine voice floated through the apartment, a sound that was unique and foreign to the space, and, despite herself, Marissa found that she liked hearing him talking in the normally silent and lonely two bedroom residence.

"Trust me," she reassured him, "it'll fit. Do you think this is the first time I've ever gone away before? If I could fit enough luggage in my car for a trip abroad for two weeks, there's room for two day's worth of clothes."

"Two days for twenty people maybe," he complained, entering the living room weighed down with her bags and sulking the entire way out to the waiting car.

"Now, while you load," Marissa instructed, forgetting to ask him if he would be willing to help her or even waiting for him to volunteer, "I figured I could tell you about this weekend. Basically, it's going to be one long, formal party with a bunch of up and coming socialites and business tycoons, people I didn't like when I went to school with them and people I dislike even more now. There will be dinners and dancing, informal gatherings such as golf outings and spa treatments, and formal galas. We'll learn more about the exact itinerary when we get there and get our information packets. As for getting to know each other, I assumed that I could just make up your information. No one there will know you, so they'll believe anything I say. However, they all know me, so I'll have to give you a brief biography of myself so they won't suspect that we really only met today."

"That's fine," he dismissed everything she had just said. "I'll do whatever you need me to, that's a part of the job description, but what I don't get is why you're going to this thing. You obviously don't like these people, you're not interested in seeing them or going to these stuffy, close minded events, and you don't have to worry about impressing anyone, because you're obviously successful. So, what's the deal? Why is this stupid reunion so important to you?"

"Because my Mom RSVP'd for me, and, if I don't show up there looking utterly perfect with a piece of arm candy attached to my hip who obviously worships the ground I walk on, he won, and everyone in this town will know. They'll know that pathetic, little, spinster Marissa Cooper is sitting at home with her two cats eating ice cream and watching chick flicks while her ex-fiancé is proposing to the woman he cheated on her with and buying a house. I may be alone and miserable even though it's only been six months since my world was blown to pieces around me, but no one is going to realize that."

Watching her closely, he finally responded, "you do know it's okay to take more than six months to get over a broken heart?"

"Yeah, well, maybe you're right, but my pride cannot take another beating. I'm going to this thing," she said resolutely, "and I'm going to show everyone, including my ex, that Marissa Cooper is back and better than ever."

"Alright then," Ryan agreed, slamming the trunk of her car closed with a firm, swift motion. "Everything's packed, your mind's made up, and you've said your goodbyes to your cats. Give me your keys, and we'll be on our way." When she hesitated to do what he said, he asked, "what? What's wrong now?"

"You can't drive my car."

"Why not?"

Incredulously, Marissa snapped, "you're not on my insurance policy! What if something happens, and…."

"Get in the damn car," he ordered, moving up to her quickly and snatching the keys out of her loose grasp. Once they were both seated and buckled in, he started the car, turning to her. "How would it have looked if you showed up at this reunion and your boyfriend was not driving?" When she rolled her eyes and crossed her toned arms over her ample chest in a petulant pout, Ryan smirked, laughing to himself, before pulling out of the driveway. "Perhaps I should be in charge this weekend."

"But I like to lead," she protested, not realizing how her words, when taken out of context, could direct them to a very interesting and ultimately embarrassing conversation.

"I'm sure you do," Ryan responded. His tone insinuated many things besides control in a business situation, and they both knew it. "However, sometimes trust can be a more effective tactic than power or independence. If you have faith in me, Marissa," he promised her, "I won't let you down. I'll help you get exactly what you want and, perhaps, even more."

"You're pretty confident, aren't you?"

"Well, when you make almost $100 an hour, you better be able to deliver," he explained his poise and self-assurance. "So, what do you say, Miss Cooper, do you trust me enough to let me help you?"

He stopped at a traffic light, facing her while they waited for it to turn green again. Holding out his hand, Ryan remained still while he let her make her decision. It only took a moment, and, before he knew it, her small, delicate, baby soft hand was in his much stronger, slightly rougher palm, shaking it. In that brief moment, she had given him her hope, and he knew he would do everything within his power to live up to his word.

\ \ \

"This is not what I was expecting."

"What do you mean," Marissa asked as she went to get out of the car. Needing a minute to talk to her, Ryan signaled for the hotel employee to give them a moment of privacy before opening her door for her. Confused, she turned to him, concern written plainly across her gorgeous face. "I told you we were going to a resort."

"Yeah, and I was expecting something like a Holiday Inn. This is…."

"This is Newport," she explained with a frown. "I didn't tell you where I went to high school, did I?" As he shook his head no, she offered him a sympathetic smile. "I went to Harbor, one of the most expensive and elite private academies in the entire United States. This," she motioned to the exclusive resort, "is just par for the course."

"And the golf analogies start already," Ryan mumbled under his breath, making her attempt and fail miserably to hide an amused smile. "Marissa, I'm not prepared for this. When you said formal, I brought dress pants and oxford shirts, not ties, cufflinks, and smoking jackets."

Immediately, she burst into laughter. "You know what a smoking jacket is?"

"Shut up."

"Okay, listen, calm down. This is not a big deal. Personally," she confessed, "I could care less what you wear. That doesn't matter to me. As for everyone else, they're going to more concerned about figuring out who you are and where you come from and not paying attention to your clothes. Besides," she added cheekily, "I hate ties, cufflinks are pretentious, and I loathe the smell of cigar smoke, so you're just going to have to retire those fantasies of smoking jackets until your next job."

Opening the driver side door, Ryan stepped out of the vehicle and rounded it to open her door for her. "You're going to hassle me about this all weekend, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Marissa quipped, "I've been planning jokes to make fun of you for two weeks. I have more than enough information to drop the smoking jacket comment right here and right now."

"Doesn't mean you're going to."

She merely shrugged her shoulders in a non-committal manner, and they made their way inside of the hotel while a bellhop followed closely behind them with all of her numerous suitcases and his lone duffel bag. As their playful banter continued, neither of them noticed several of the other guests turn to stare at them, watching their movements and interactions closely. Everyone was curious to see how the scorned and humiliated Marissa Cooper would act that weekend. Several bets were places ranging from her showing up drunk or with her Mother to the point where some said she wouldn't show up at all, but seeing her laughing and smiling with a perfect stranger, a man who appeared to be confident, successful, and definitely good looking, was the last thing they had expected. However, most people were not brash enough to approach her, to insist upon being introduced to her date, but Summer Roberts was not just anyone; she was distinctly one of a kind.

"Summer Roberts," she immediately announced, holding her hand out for Ryan to greet her, "but you can call me Sum if you want. All my friends do."

"Ryan Atwood," he responded, but the spunky brunette had already turned to address Marissa.

"Coop, where did you find him? He's hot! Does he have any friends, perhaps a co-worker?"

"I'm sure he does," Marissa answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "but I also doubt if they would be your kind. Ryan's a part of the working class." The tall blonde noticed his wary, puzzled glance in her direction, but she quickly dismissed it with a simple shake of her head, letting him know they had nothing to worry about.

"Oh, what do you do," Summer squealed in interest. "Are you a lawyer, in real estate, perhaps you're a doctor. My Dad's a plastic surgeon, so I can get free procedures any time I want."

"I can tell," he offered her a compliment laced with sarcasm and offense, but only Marissa, who had a hard time reigning in her laughter, understood his dig at her old friend. "However, I organize social events."

"Like a party planner!"

Before Ryan could say anything else or before she could lose control of her thinly disguised amusement, Marissa laced her arm through Ryan's and started steering him towards the elevators. The bellhop had already taken their luggage to their room, and, because of the special circumstances of the weekend, they were able to skip the annoyance of check in and simply received their keys upon arriving at the hotel.

"Would you look at the time," she exclaimed despite the fact that she was not wearing a watch. "My boyfriend and I really need to get to our room to, you know," she winked at Summer, "get ready for tonight. We'll have to catch up some more later."

The petite woman tried to protest, but the blonde couple left quickly without a second glance in her direction. As soon as they were safely on the elevator and in private, Ryan turned to Marissa and shook his head in a disapproving manner.

"That's what you call letting me lead?"

"What," she protested defensively, her wide, innocent eyes and slightly pursed lips making her appear as guiltless and pure as a five year old.

"Don't you think you were laying it on a bit thick back there, what with the sexual innuendos and declaring me as your boyfriend? I think they'll be able to assume for themselves that we're a couple by the simple fact that we're here together and going to be sharing a room."

"You can never be too obvious in Newport. Subtlety is not a word Newpsies understand," she explained. "If I don't make it clear that we're together in every sense of the word, they'll either assume that you're gay…."

Interrupting her, Ryan assured, "I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

"Or they'll think that you're my long lost, illegitimate brother who felt sorry for his new sister and decided to help her by pretending to be her date," she finished.

"Where do you get this stuff," Ryan asked with a chuckle. "People don't meet illegitimate half siblings when they're twenty eight years old."

"They do in Newport."

"Alright, fine," he conceded, "perhaps in your world we'll have to be slightly more conspicuous, but you agreed to trust me. Are you backing out of that promise?" She shook her head no. "Good. Now, tell me," he demanded as the elevator arrived at their floor, "are all your old friends from high school as insufferable as that Summer character?"

"Summer's not that bad, really," Marissa excused. "Yeah, she's a little on the crazy side, loud, demanding, nosy, and obsessed with status and wealth, but, underneath all of that, her heart is normally in the right place."

"Of course it is," Ryan joked, "because, if it's not, her doctor Daddy can just have it repositioned for her."

Smirking at him, Marissa pressed, "trust me," her tone resembled that of mock reassurance, "compared to some of the others we're going to meet, Summer is going to quickly become one of your favorite people."

"Never have I heard a scarier statement." As she laughed at his paranoia, Ryan unlocked their door, pushing it open to let her enter first. But, before he could follow her into the room, she came to a dead halt just inside of the door, alarming him. "What's wrong?"

In a nervous whisper, she declared "there's only one bed."

"Is that it? Marissa, move into the room," he ordered, "so I don't have to stand in this hallway all night." Once they were both inside of the room, he continued. "If you're that uncomfortable sharing a bed with me, then I'll just sleep on the floor."

"Really, you don't mind?"

"I've slept in worse places," he asserted. "Now, let's get dressed. The sooner we get down to this meet and greet dinner, the sooner we can leave."

"Good point," she concurred. "Do you need to use the bathroom?"

"I showered before I met you at your house. I'm good. I'll just get dressed, and then, when you're done in there, I'll finish up."

"Thanks," Marissa smiled at him. "Be out in a few." A _mere _forty-five minutes later Ryan noticed as he glanced down at his watch, she reemerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and mist dressed only in a robe. At least her hair was dried and her makeup applied. "Oh good," she said enthusiastically, "you're ready, so you can help me."

"Help you do what," he asked hesitantly.

"Pick out my dress."

"Listen, I really don't think I'm the person to ask for fashion advice."

"Of course you are," she dismissed his objections. "You're a man; you have base, animalistic instincts, so you're perfect for the job as my stylist. All I need you do is tell me whether or not you would be attracted to a woman if she was wearing the dress I have show you or not. Can you handle that?"

"Fine," Ryan agreed, "but how about I ask you questions about yourself while you get ready to help us with this ruse."

"Works for me."

"What's your favorite movie?"

"Pretty Woman," she teased, making him groan in impatience and scrub his face harshly. "Okay, tell me what you think of this one, and I'll answer honestly." She held up a knee length, white strapless dress with red and white dot embroidery, and it had a full skirt and a sweetheart neckline. "I have red peep toe pumps to go with this."

"It's….nice," Ryan responded to the dress, shrugging his shoulders.

"Nice is the kiss of death. This option is out," she announced, tossing the dress aside. "And my real favorite movie is Meet Joe Black."

"So, you have a thing for dead guys, good to know," he retorted ironically. She merely rolled her eyes at his acerbic banter. "Favorite food?"

"That's a hard one," she answered, pondering his question while holding up the second dress, a strapless lace, mid-calf length one that was ruby in color with a white underlay, tonal lace trim, a banded tie waist, and a full skirt. "A girl just can't pick one thing. I'd have to say my top five favorite foods though are goldfish crackers, my next door neighbor and best friend when I was little girl got me hooked on those, fruit rollups, apples and caramel, raspberry poptarts, and grilled cheese sandwiches."

"I love grilled cheese sandwiches, too," Ryan grinned up at her. "And the dress….it's….pretty?"

"Yeah, pretty doesn't cut it." She quickly tossed it aside as well.

"Alright, what's your dream vacation," he asked.

"I want to see everything, go everywhere," Marissa confessed, showing him the third dress. It was a midnight blue mini dress with a seamed empire waist that had sheer sleeves that hug to her elbows, a sheer hem, and a v neckline. "But if I could only go to one place in the world, I'd want to visit Ireland. That's where my family is from."

"I like that one," Ryan commented on her dress, "but doesn't it seem a little wintry?"

"You're right." With that, it was tossed away in the discarded pile as well.

"As for Ireland," he continued, "that sounds amazing."

"Where would you want to go," she asked him, her curiosity shining through her bright, blue eyes. As she waited for his response, she held up a fourth dress, a strapless, short, pleated number that was raspberry in color, had an empire waist, and a bubble skirt.

"I've always wanted to go to Russia," he revealed. "I know it's freezing there, that certain parts of it is desolate, and that it's really hard to get into, but there's something about all those basilicas and castles that I just find beautiful. I like old buildings, architecture, history." Stopping for a moment to look at the dress she was holding up for him, he asked, "you really like red, don't you," and had to watch as she threw yet another outfit aside. "Come on, Marissa, we're going to be late."

"It's fashionable to be late."

"Yeah, perhaps fifteen minutes," he conceded, "but an hour, a week, a few years late is not fashionable."

"Please," she huffed, "every single woman there is going to be late. What about this one?" Her fifth option was a knee length, orange halter dress that tied in the back and softly flared to the knee. It was low cut, demurely seductive, and fun. Ryan simply nodded his head swiftly in response, and she knew she had finally found her dress for the evening. Within five minutes, she was ready, and they were making their way out of the door in order to head to their first event of the weekend. As they boarded the elevator, the two of them were talking and laughing as if they had been friends for years, and, for the first time in six months, Luke Ward was the furthest thing from Marissa's mind.

\ \ \

For the past hour, Ryan had watched the woman beside him turn into a shell of her former self, the enthusiasm in her step, the rosy glow of her cheek, and the light in her deep, soulful eyes all disappeared as one callous, insolent person after another came up and approached her with rude, prying questions about her personal life tumbling forth out of their rouged lips and alcohol reeking mouths. There had been only one person who had come to see her that had genuinely been interested in her life, who she had been happy to see, and that was the same friend she had mentioned while she was getting ready. While he listened to them catch up, discussing various things from their families to comic books to the next political election to their varied and eclectic taste in music, he had learned that young, curly haired man's name was Seth Cohen, that they had been best friends until her Mother had married his grandfather and then proceeded to take him to the cleaners in their divorce settlement, and, although neither of them held the other responsible for their family's actions, the relationship became strained due to the distance between their parents. But not even the presence of her favorite childhood friend could stop the others from bringing her pain and despondency with their uncouth comments and questions.

After listening to them belittle her, her family, her job, and her social life, after seeing her inner fire be extinguished by the compliments and praise her former fellow students heaped at her ex-fiancé's new soon-to-wife's feet, after witnessing the tears they brought to her eyes when they told her she had overreacted to the whole debacle, Ryan had just about had enough, but, when one particularly rude woman approached their table, pulled a chair up to Marissa's side, and proceeded to ask her about her supposed suicide attempt, something that was a complete lie, he was finally pushed over the edge of reason. Standing up, he held his hand out for Marissa and interrupted the woman on her other side.

"Dance with me," he asked. The immediate appreciation that filled his eyes as she looked up at him only made him regret that he hadn't asked her earlier. As they strode to the center of the dance floor together, he asked her once again, "do you trust me," in a whisper only perceptible to her ears. She simply nodded to show that she did, and, without another word, he pulled her into his arms, his hands going to rest possessively on her lower back, and motioned for her to lay her head on his shoulder as she, in turn, held him closely as well. "It's okay," he soothed her, his warm breath tickling the side of her face while his hands rubbed gentle circles against the silk of her stunning dress. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Let it go," he encouraged. "If you need to cry, I'll hide your tears. You're safe with me, Marissa."

That was all she needed to hear, and, within moments, he could feel the delicate woman in his arms shuddering against his body with her silent sobs. He hated them, each and every one of them, for making her feel so wretchedly. Although he had only known her for a few hours, Ryan knew that she was a good woman, that she would never intentionally hurt anyone, and the simple grace and beauty she exuded, the naïve vulnerability she showed the world, made him want to protect her from everything and anything that could ever hurt her. True, she was only his client, but, for the two days he would know her, he would do everything in his power to make sure no one made her cry again, and that was a promise he made to himself.

As the song ended, she moved to step away from him, but he merely pulled her closer to his body, holding her tighter and whispering, once again, in her ear. "I think you're right. We do need to be obvious." She lifted her head from his shoulder in confusion, connecting their gazes together as she searched his cerulean blue orbs for answers to her confusion, but what she found there made the questions disappear and her breath catch in her throat. The way he was looking at her made Marissa feel as if she was the most important, most exquisite woman in the world, and the feeling was utterly addictive. Before she knew what was happening, their lips were joined together in a tender, shy, reverent embrace, and she didn't know who had made the first move to kiss the other. At first she knew the compassionate clinch was nothing more than his way of stopping the idle gossip circling around the reunion about her, but, as he deepened the embrace, drawling her mouth into his and letting his tongue beg for permission to enter the sweet recesses of her mouth, Marissa started to wonder if perhaps the kiss meant more than Ryan simply performing the duties of his job. She obliged, welcoming him to join his palate with her own, and, by the time they were forced to pull away in order to take in shaky, desperate breaths of fresh air, she noticed how his light lashes fluttered for several moments in a delicious awareness of sensory bliss before fully opening to reveal passion filled, dilated pupils that nearly eclipsed the sparkling oceanic blue of his mesmerizing eyes.

"Come on," he suggested huskily, "let's get out of her."

Without a word, she agreed, holding his hand as he led her out of the dining room and through the French doors that would take them to the gardens and eventually the beach. As they made their way to the sea, neither of them said anything. Desperate to know what their kiss had meant but knowing Ryan wasn't going to say anything, her mind started working as she attempted to sort out exactly what had just transpired between them. By the time he helped her sit down in the sand, joining her, Marissa concluded that, even though the embrace had seemed to mean more to him besides just something he had to do because she was paying him to pretend to be her boyfriend, he obviously had just gotten swept up in the moment, and it really hadn't meant anything to him at all. After all, she thought, there was no way he would ever be interested in her.

"Can you tell me what really happened between the two of you," he asked, breaking the silence. "I know it's a painful topic, but I'm a good listener, and I thought talking about it with someone who is objective might help."

"Okay," she agreed, but then the quiet descended around them again for several minutes while she gathered her thoughts. Just as he was going to say something else to make her feel comfortable with the idea of confiding in him, she spoke up. "They called us the perfect couple."

"Who?"

"Everyone," she answered, laughing loudly. Her mirth held no humor though. "My friends, his friends, his parents, our teachers, even the town busybodies held us up on this ridiculous pedestal of what the ideal teenage, Newport couple should resemble. He was the popular jock that had fooled everyone into believing he was a perfect angel who cared about his community and the common good for everyone, but his friends knew who he really was. He was a shallow, judgmental hypocrite who could not accept anyone who was slightly different than he was, and that made him cool. Anything Luke Ward wanted, Luke Ward got, and, looking back at it, I guess, for some reason, he had wanted me.

"I was the golden child, the teacher's pet, the apple of my parents' eye. I got straight A's, was social chair, and I volunteered on every charity committee the school had to offer. I was respectful to my elders, loving and caring to my little sister, and as innocent as a schoolgirl. That all changed though when I met Luke.

"Most people didn't see the changes in me; they were subtle, but my parents did, especially my Mom. I kept up appearances for the rest of Newport, for I didn't want to tarnish my perfect reputation, but, outside of the public eye, I did anything Luke wanted me to. I would drink so much I'd black out and not remember the night before. I experimented with drugs, was his personal whore, and let him walk all over me just so that he would stay with me. I thought that if I was with Luke Ward, then I was someone who mattered. My Mom hated him, and we started fighting over my relationship with him, and, when my Dad left us after his business went bankrupt, things only got worse. Luke was my only tie left to society. As long as I dated him, Newport still accepted me, so I stayed with him even though I knew he fooled around behind my back and dismissed me to his friends.

"When we went to college, I went to the one he wanted, so that I could remain with him. Things seemed better there; he seemed to be more attentive, more interested, and more caring towards me, but, now that I think about it, it was just easier for him hide his unfaithful behavior. He proposed when we were juniors, I accepted, and I naively assumed we'd be together forever at that point. After graduation, we moved back to Newport, he took over his Dad's car dealership business, I got my job at Saks, and we started planning our life together. When he insisted upon a long engagement, I thought nothing of it. My mindset at that point was that we'd been together for so long that he'd never leave me. Eventually, my Mom accepted that I was going to stay with him no matter what she said, so she gave up, and we repaired our relationship, something I'm so thankful for, because I'm not sure I would have been able to get through the past six months without her.

"Anyway, it was two weeks before our wedding, and, although I had left the immature party behavior behind in college, Luke hadn't, and I got a call one morning from a bartender who was quickly getting fed up with his tiring antics. The man called me to pick him up, but, when I got to the bar, he was leaving with another woman, and I followed them. I followed them to a cheap motel where they got a room and had sex. The next afternoon, he appeared at my office with flowers and his usual smarmy smile, and I broke off the engagement and gave him back his ring and my key to the place we shared together.

"Going to my Mom and admitting that she was right, cancelling the wedding so close to the ceremony, becoming single again for the first time since I was child was the most humiliating thing I've ever done in my life. It was embarrassing, degrading, and it's still not over. I'm still the poor little girl that the wonderful Luke Ward cheated on, the juvenile child who threw away the best thing that ever happened to her, the woman who once was destined to have everything but will now live her life alone and miserable. Everywhere I go people stare and point at me, when all I want is for them to leave me alone. Is that so much to ask?"

"Why do you stay," Ryan asked her earnestly, turning to face her more squarely. "Why do you put up with it, all this utter bullshit? Why not pack up your things and just leave? Why not tell them all to go to hell?"

"I can't leave," she responded, "not when my Mom and sister live here. They're the only family I have, and, without them, I'd be lost. As for the rest of them, this town, if I left, I'd just be branded a coward, and that's one thing I promised myself a long time ago I'd never be. My Dad ran away when things got rough, and I've hated him for it ever since. I can't do to my family what he did to us." Carelessly, Marissa wiped away the tears that were threatening to flow from her eyes before laughing softly and quirking her eyebrow at Ryan. "What about you? Do you have any embarrassing relationship skeletons in your closet?"

"First of all, you should not be embarrassed about what happened between you and Luke," he corrected her, lifting his own calloused fingers up to finish drying her tears. "You did nothing wrong. As for me and my past, it's kind of hard to have a real relationship when you work in the escort business. Potential girlfriends don't see to it too kindly when your job is to date other woman for money."

She giggled before pressing him for more information. "But surely you dated some before you started….doing what you do."

"Where I grew up, people didn't exactly date; they just….hung out, and I started doing this as soon as I turned eighteen. It was the only way I could afford college."

"And what happened with that?"

"The job started interrupting with my course work, and then, when news spread around the campus that I was an escort, it didn't take long for me to lose all my financial aid and become black listed. I guess I could have tried to go to another school, but, by that time, I was just disillusioned with the whole idea of college. It wasn't what I thought it was going to be."

Curious, she queried, "what did you study?"

"This will make Russia more understandable," he joked, laughing. "I wanted to study architecture."

"So, Ryan Atwood is a man who's been disappointed by higher education, let down by society, and who has never been in love?"

"I guess so," he agreed. "But what about you," he pondered, explaining his question when she looked at him lost as to what he was asking. "Have you ever been in love?"

"I used to think so," Marissa mused to herself more than to him as she became lost in his inquiry. "I told myself that I was in love with Luke, that he was the love of my life, but, sitting here with you and thinking about our relationship, I'm not sure. I think I was in love with the idea of being in love and believing that someone loved me back, but if what I felt for him really was love, than I should have been heartbroken and crushed when I found him cheating on me not embarrassed and shamed." After a moment of silence, she turned to face the interested and considerate man beside her whose attention was solely focused upon her and smiled softly at him. "So, perhaps I've never been in love either. Perhaps you and me, Ryan Atwood, aren't as different as we thought."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Hey everyone. Before I post the new chapter, here's your explanation about the name Chan. Cat Power's, another Indie fave of mine, real name is Charlyn Marshall, but she goes by Chan (pronounced like Shawn). Not only do I adore her, but I was shocked to see how similar our names are. However, I'm not sure how she pronounces Charlyn...but I think it would be similar when I see how she pronounces her nickname. (As for the other names used: Larkin is just a name I liked, Neko, as many of you realized, is for Neko Case, and Alison, which no one payed attention to, was for Alison Goldfrapp, obviously from Goldfrapp.) Because no one won the challenge, El ended up helping me choose the next story. I'm not sure when the first post will be up, but I'll planning it out soon. Enjoy the update. :D_

_Charlynn_

Chapter Three

She knew she shouldn't do it, that if she did she would alert him to the fact that something was wrong, but she couldn't help it. They had been back in the room now for an hour, changed and in their respective beds, hers a real mattress and springs with a high backed, silk upholstered, gorgeous headboard, and luxurious sheets and down comforters, his the hard floor and extra pillow and blanket kept stored in the room's closet for he refused to take anything else, and she knew, just as he knew about her, that he was not sleeping. While her constant tossing and turning had to alert him to her conscious state, his utter refusal to move at all, probably in hopes of making her think he was sleeping, let her know he was awake, aware, and attuned to the fact that she was upset. So, she knew she shouldn't do it, couldn't do, wouldn't do it. Unfortunately, she didn't have the willpower to stop herself, and, so, she cried.

Marissa Cooper had known for years that her only boyfriend, only fiancé, only partner had never loved her, but she had accepted it for what it was, rationalized it, and moved on. So what if he didn't love her, he was at least fond of her…or so she had thought. She had reasoned that he would never stay with her for as long as he did or propose to her if he didn't feel something beyond friendship, and, even if he didn't, she would be able to love him enough for the both of them and hope that someday he would learn to love her. However, in one night, with one deep, meaningful, REAL conversation, Ryan Atwood, a man she had hired to pretend he was dating her, to pretend that he liked her…loved her, had shattered that idea.

If she had never loved Luke either, than what did that make her? It made her a twenty-eight year old woman who had only slept with one man her entire life, and, if she was going to be honest with herself and the late hours of night seemed to always have that effect upon her, then she would have to admit that the sex life she had shared with a man for 12 years had been rather unsatisfying, one sided, and had only served Luke's needs. It made her a twenty-eight year old woman who had wasted more time, energy, and years of her life, prime years, than she really wanted to admit. It made her a twenty-eight year old woman who had never been loved by a man and, even worse, had never loved one herself. The thought was scary, humiliating, and it stung more than anything else ever had, even more than the knowledge that her fiancé had cheated on her. And that's why she was crying.

The next thing she knew, she was doing the very last thing she had expected to do. Tossing the mountains of blankets piled on top of her body aside, she shivered once as her body adjusted to the coolness the air conditioning provided and then stood up. Hair tousled and slightly knotted from tossing and turning for over an hour as she tried to will herself to sleep, eyes red and sore from crying with dark circles underlying them to belie how tired and desperate for comfort she was, nose pink and running from her tears and all the sniffling she had done in an attempt to ward off her sobs, mouth quivering with unreleased emotion, and body in nothing more than a short, slip of a silk nightgown with goosebumps to accessorize the ensemble, Marissa slowly made her way across the bedroom, timidly, unsurely, distraughtly in search of comfort. Perhaps it was her hopelessness that made her act so boldly, maybe it was the faith she had in Ryan, her friend despite only knowing him for less than twenty-four hours, that he would listen and be understanding again just as he had been on the beach mere hours earlier, and, yet, it could also be the fact that she was only human, a human who was seeking relief from the only person who could offer it in that moment, but, whatever the reason, she made her way to his side, knelt down on the ground, and, when he didn't make a move to get away from her, lowered her body until it was resting beside him, her head a scant distance from his pillow, her hands resting under her chin, her body suddenly warmer now that she could feel him nearby, and, when she felt him roll over to face her, his arm finding its way around her waist as he pulled her into his chest, tucking her head under his chin, the tears stopped, her eyes drifted shut almost immediately, and a sigh of relief, of contentment, almost imperceptible, escaped her lips. Although she didn't notice it, Ryan did.

\ \ \

Stretching her toes, her eyes still shut, Marissa Cooper mused that this was the life; this was how a woman was supposed to wake up in the morning. Well rested, peaceful, protected, and as 'snug as a bug in a rub' as her Dad had always said when he tucked her in as a little girl. She was so comfortable, she didn't want to move. Peeking open one bright and shining blue eye, slightly protesting with sleep, her intentions had been to look at the clock which should have been on the bedside table to her left, but, instead, she saw skin, tanned skin over a very muscular frame, masculine skin, Ryan's skin.

Snapping away from him, she glanced down at her body to see if she was dressed; she was, but it was just a slip of a nightgown, something that could have easily been pushed up and out of the way. Still unsure, her eyes moved back to the man beside her. He was still sleeping, and the blanket was covering him from the waist down, but, needing to know, she risked waking him by pulling it away from his form. He was dressed, too, and she was surprised that her own reaction was not one of relief but of regret as if she'd let an opportunity pass her by. That feeling was quickly replaced by a sense of panic though when her wide, thoughtful eyes finally found the clock she had been searching for moments before, and what she found was not good.

They were late. Forget breakfast, if they didn't get up, get ready, and get downstairs in the next fifteen minutes, they would miss a whole day's worth of activities, and, while the idea of spending her afternoon with a bunch of Newpsies in training made her thankful she had missed breakfast, she was there to be seen and to be seen with Ryan.

"No, no, no" she wailed in frustration as she started to move frantically around the room. She didn't know what to do first or even how to start thinking in a logical sense in order to realize what step should be foremost on her mind, so, instead of doing anything productive, she simply paced around the room, her right hand lifted in agitation to recklessly pull at her hair, lifting her already short nightgown, at the same time as her pearly white teeth dug anxiously into her plump lower lip.

"What's wrong," his voice made her jump and let out a startled yelp before freezing in place. Still though, she didn't say anything to respond to his worried question. Before she knew it, he was standing behind her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders as he pushed her for information. "What happened?"

"We slept in," she replied, whirling around to face him. She knew he could sense her apprehension, and his amused reaction did nothing to calm her unease.

"That's no big deal," he rationalized, leading her towards the bathroom with his hand that was suddenly – _when did it move?_ – grasping her elbow in the most delicate of embraces. "We both showered last night, so that'll save us time. Once she was inside of the doorway, he instructed, "tease your hair, paint your face, do whatever you women do because you think it's necessary when its not," he motioned in an uncertain, distracted manner towards the vanity where her cosmetics bag was resting, "and I'll get dressed out here. When I'm done, I'll pick your outfit out for you to avoid last night's disaster, bring it in with me when I come in to wash my face and brush my teeth, and then we'll switch rooms and you can get dressed. Sound good?" All she could do was nod her head yes. With that, he shut the door that separated them, but still she didn't move; she just stood there, staring at the white wood in front of her until his voice snapped her back to reality. "And Marissa," he called out, regaining her attention, "remember to breathe."

It was good advice, because she wasn't sure she had performed the mundane, almost instinctual task since his hand had touched her bare arm. As she moved towards the sink, she looked down at her elbow and realized she could still feel his fingers on her skin, the warmth of his contact still burned into her sensitive flesh. Five minutes later, after a quick knock on the door to make sure it was alright for him to enter, Ryan was standing beside her as they finished getting ready together. He was dressed simply in a pair of basic, slightly baggy blue jeans, faded and soft from wear, and a t-shirt, and Marissa found herself liking his simplicity. It was new, unexpected, and comforting as it gave her a sense of his dependency. Surprising her, when he had handed the pile of clothes to her that he had picked out, he wasn't embarrassed about the fact that he had seen, touched, and even picked out her undergarments for the day, a pale almost sheer set of matching baby pink lace, a fact that she would have seen important to analyze and interpret if she had the time.

What surprised her even more though was with what ease they moved around each other while getting ready…practically complimenting each other. When she was finished putting toothpaste on her brush, she had handed it to him without thinking, without looking, without realizing how beautifully private and comfortable the moment was. He accepted it, put an ample amount on his own brush, and the two of them had shared the sink, turning on the water for each other and taking turns when it was time to spit. Shoulders together, caressing, moving delicately as one almost like they were a couple, Marissa almost choked on the foam of her toothpaste when she realized she found the moment highly erotic. She had never shared such intimacy with Luke, and the fact that she could with Ryan after knowing him for such a brief amount of time shocked her…pleasantly shocked her. So, instead of choking, she smiled and then proceeded to giggle when the foam trickled down her chin in a wonderfully innocent, naïve way. Ryan said nothing, laughed with her, handed her a towel, and then continued watching her as she picked up her clothes, moved into the bedroom, and changed, leaving the door cracked open.

"I'm ready," she called out when she was completely dressed. He had done a good job picking out her clothes, especially since he had no idea what they would be doing that day. Wearing a white, light weight, cotton skirt, a Lacoste polo, and her favorite pair of Keds slip on tennis shoes, her hair tossed up in a sassy yet neat ponytail, she was the picture of straightforward elegance.

"So, what are we doing today," he asked her as he walked out of the bathroom, immediately heading towards the entrance to their hotel room and opening the door for her.

Snickering softly so he couldn't hear for she had the idea that he wasn't going to be a fan of their plans, she waited until she was safely out of the room and a few paces in front of him before replying over her shoulder. "We're going couples golfing," she confessed, unable to hold back her laughter when his face blanched, then blushed, and then formed into a tight scowl as soon as he heard her words.

Oh yeah, she was so going to have fun with him that afternoon.

\ \ \

"Marissa, seriously, I don't golf."

They were warming up on the practice greens, Marissa lining up a putt while Ryan kept complaining much to her amusement. Despite running late that morning, they were the first couple there for the afternoon's activity, because, as a hotel staff employee had helpfully told them when they picked up their clubs, the breakfast they had skipped was taking longer than planned. The couples would be randomly paired in two's and would compete against each other. Once they completed the eighteen hole course, the rest of the afternoon they had to themselves, but that evening the men and women were splitting up and going their separate ways.

After sinking her putt, Marissa looked up at the man across from her who rather looked as if he was slightly pouting. "Now, don't be melodramatic," she chided him with a saucy smile. Dropping her club in the bag, she waltzed her way up to him until they were standing only a small distance apart. "Of course you can golf," she encouraged. "You just can't do it well." His glare made her laugh. "Come on, don't be like that; this is going to be fun. Remember," Marissa pointed out, "this is couples golfing. We help each other, hide the flaws in each others game, and work together to kick the other couple's ass."

Curious, he asked her, "what's your flaw, because, from watching you, it doesn't look like you have any."

"But that's where you're wrong. I have many flaws to my game. For one," she ticked off on her thin, delicate finger, "my long game is weak. I don't have the strength to really drive it home on the par 5's."

"Yeah, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Two," Marissa continued without noticing his comment, "after a while, I get tired from carrying around my bag, so it weakens my game."

"Do you want me to be your bag boy?"

"It's called a caddy, Ryan, and of course you're carrying it. That goes without saying." Stopping to take a breath, she raised her third point. "And, finally, I also have this nasty habit of getting…distracted when I play. Games just don't hold my attention very well."

Getting into her playful banter, Ryan placed his hands on her hips to keep her stationed in front of him, leaning his head in even closer to her own as he whispered, "and what does hold your attention?"

"Lots of things," she revealed. With a decidedly flirtatious lick of her lips, she continued. "A cute caddy who is attuned to all of my needs, both on and off the course, Tiger Woods on the TV in the clubhouse, and….," her voice changed, going from relaxed and content to panicked and nervous, "Luke!"

"What," he questioned her. "Your ex can hold your…"

"No," Marissa interrupted him. "Luke….he's here with her. They're walking towards us. They must be the couple we were randomly paired with."

"Listen to me," he ordered her, his hands quickly moving to cup her face and draw her attention back to him. "I don't think there was anything random about this pairing, but we're just going to have to deal with it…together. I know you really didn't want to have to face him that much this weekend, but it's too late to back out now. We'll handle this however you want."

"I want to make him sorry." The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them, but, like always, Ryan didn't judge her or act as if he disagreed with her decision. "I want to show him that he made the biggest mistake of his life by cheating on me, that I've moved on and could care less what he does or thinks, and that he no longer bothers me."

"Like I said, anything you want."

"So than you'll play up the cutesy crap?"

"Cutesy crap," Ryan questioned her choice of words. "What exactly is that?"

"Lots of flirting, lots of little, indiscreet and some not so indiscreet touches, laughing, kissing, tight embraces – basically, just act as if you really like me, like we're really dating and it feels as if you're going to spontaneously combust if you don't touch me at least once a minute."

"Can I ask you one thing?" She nodded to show that he could. "Why are you doing this? If you're doing this to win him back…."

"No," Marissa whispered vehemently. She would have yelled, but their conversation had to remain private between the two of them. "If one thing has become abundantly clear in the last 24 hours, it's that, in the long run, I'm glad Luke cheated on me and that I caught him, because it was probably the only thing that would have made me leave him. I'm not in love with him, I don't want to be with him, and I'm slowly realizing that I deserve more than what he ever offered me."

Tucking an errant, stray, wisp of hair behind her ear, Ryan agreed with her. "You deserve everything."

"Thank you," she replied, touched by his sentiments. "And to answer your question, I guess I want to make him sorry so that no one doubts that I've moved on, that they realize I'm still here, I'm not broken, and that someday someone will love me the way I should be loved."

"Then we make him sorry." Her grin was cut off as he leaned in and kissed her softly, their lips lingering together in a whisper of an embrace, the others taste invading their senses in an intoxicatingly simple moment of union. When the kiss stopped, when their foreheads were left pressed together as they both took a deep breath, neither was sure whether the embrace was one of a professional manner or whether it was one that was personal, something they had shared simply because, in that moment, they had felt connected. Unfortunately, before they could say anything to each other, they were interrupted.

"Well, isn't this a small world," Luke Ward's rude, flamboyant, rather impertinent voice rang out to gain their attention. "Who would have thought that the four of us would end up spending an afternoon together? Did you guys decide to skip out of the breakfast early, too?"

"Remember," Ryan whispered to her, making her smile, "you said you trust me. If you do, let me handle this. Okay?" Marissa nodded her head to show that she was giving him the control. Seeing her agreement, he let her go, turning around to face her ex only to wrap his arm possessively low around her waist. "Actually, no, we didn't skip out early on breakfast," he told Luke. "We skipped it entirely, found something more satisfying to do with our morning."

"Well then, knowing Marissa as….intimately as I do," Luke stated, his words ringing with innuendo, "I'm sure you're well rested. Maybe we should make this more interesting, send the girls to the clubhouse to drink a few glasses of wine while we raise the stakes and put a wager on the game, let the best man win."

"MY girlfriend is not going anywhere. We're here to spend time together this weekend, and we're playing as a couple. What you do with your fiancé, frankly, I don't care, but you'll keep your comments about Marissa to yourself."

With that, Ryan walked away with a stunned and pleased partner on his arm. "Thanks," she said quietly into the crook of his neck as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Thanks for sticking up for me." Dropping a delicate kiss on the underside of his jaw, she moved with him as they collected her bag of clubs, settling with just taking one set. While Luke and his fiancé traveled the course on their golf cart, arguing and bickering over anything and everything, Ryan and Marissa spent the afternoon walking together, bodies constantly connected whether by holding hands or wrapping their arms around each other. If she made a good shot, they celebrated with tender embraces and sweet kisses, when he teased her about her concentration and attention to detail, she rewarded him with swats on his butt or soft bites on his neck, and, after their golfing partners left them alone, the fiancé getting annoyed with Luke because he paid more attention to his ex than he did his current significant other, acting jealous and possessive over his former girlfriend, it took them several holes to realize they were alone. Somewhere between the start of their round and the point where they were left alone, their pretend flirting and fun turned into something more, something real, something meant for them to enjoy and not to torture Luke.

\ \ \

Marissa returned to her room that night a couple hundred dollars poorer, slightly tipsy, and in the possession of two very alluring pieces of lingerie, one of which, a light, luscious, lilac two piece ensemble she had found herself attracted to because she thought Ryan would like it, was on underneath her sundress. However, he was not in the room waiting for her as she thought he would be, so she made her way downstairs to the lounge where the men, the friends, the lovers, the boyfriends, the fiancés, the husbands, and the one, lone, undercover escort, had assembled that evening for dinner, drinks, and cigars if they felt so inclined. She assumed he would have ate quickly and disappeared before anyone could corner him, but, if he had found someone to talk to, a way to have fun, she was glad. There was no reason the evening had to be miserable for the both of them.

That said, she was ready to see him again. After spending several hours with women who spanned between 'I'll take another cocktail' to 'does anyone have a nail file so I can slice my own wrists' on the annoying meter, there was nothing Marissa wanted to do than to spend the rest of the night with Ryan, and the alcohol coursing through her body was just enough to dull her mind to the point where she didn't question why her immediate reaction after having a bad evening was to seek out her paid date for the weekend, why she wanted to please him with her lingerie selection, or why even the thought of the blonde haired, blue eyed man she had slept beside the night before made a pleasant warmth spread through her otherwise chilled body.

Riding the elevator down to the ground floor, Marissa let the smile she was feeling inside form on her face, lighting up her eyes, and, for the first time in months, if someone asked her how she was, she could honestly reply that she was fine, no, better than fine, better than okay, she was happy, and, in that moment, she wanted to share it with the one person she believed would care, the person who had made her feel so wonderful about herself. Practically skipping when the elevator stopped, she floated down the hallway to the lounge where she anticipated finding Ryan, but he wasn't there. Undeterred, she asked one of the busboys cleaning up the restaurant if he knew where he might be, and the young kid told her many of the guys had gone out by the pool after the dinner party broke up. So, with renewed hope of finding him, she went outside into the balmy night air, once again, the breeze off the ocean caressing her soft skin and tousling her long, full blonde hair, giving it a carefree, sexy appearance.

She heard him before she saw him. At the initial sound of his voice, her smile widened, but, as quickly as it appeared, the bright grin disappeared once she heard his tone. He was upset, livid, and about to lose his temper, and, as she heard the second voice enter the conversation which was sounding more and more like an argument as the seconds slipped by, she knew exactly what it was about: her. Luke was there, baiting and harassing him, and, just like always, he knew exactly what buttons to push.

"You know Atwood," she heard her ex drawl out slowly, his voice a combination of conceit, obstinacy, and insolence, "I like you; you seem like a cool enough guy, so let me give you some advice."

"Thanks but no thanks," Ryan responded, barely checking his anger. "I doubt there's anything you could offer that I'd be willing to listen to."

Unfortunately, Luke just ignored him. "Your little girlfriend, my ex, she's not worth any man's time. Use her for what she's worth, which, let me tell you, is not much, and then leave her high and dry. I kept her around as my front girlfriend, the woman my parents approved of, the one that helped further my career, but I always had women on the side to make up for what she lacked – affection, passion, sex appeal, a wild streak."

"Perhaps you're just not man enough to bring out those traits in her."

Luke just laughed. "Come on, man, are you telling me she's put out already, because I highly doubt it. I started dating her in middle school, and it still took me four years and a whole lot of tequila to get her to have sex with me. Want to know a little secret, too? That night, with her practically passed out because she'd had so much to drink, was the most responsive she ever was in bed….as she tried to fight me off."

Tears forming in her eyes, Marissa went to flee. There was no way Ryan would ever want her after what Luke had said to him, but the next thing she heard made her stop dead in her tracks.

After the sound of a hard fist making contact with someone's face, Ryan's voice raised over the mêlée on the patio. "If you ever say another word about her, I'll break your face. I'm not from around here, Mr. Ward; where I'm from, men like you disappear and are never heard of again, so, if I were you, I'd stay away…from me and Marissa."

"That," Luke replied, spitting out a clot of blood, "was a big mistake. Hold him boys," he ordered, stepping towards his adversary. Marissa knew that tone, she knew what those words meant, and she knew there was no one who would stick up for Ryan when her ex started giving commands. "No one speaks to me like that, threatens me, and then hits me without a little payback." As she pushed her way through the gathered crowd, one burly man at a time, each punch, each kick directed in Ryan's direction felt like a blow to her own body. "There's something you need to know about Marissa, Atwood. I had her first, I've been her only for twelve years, and I'll be her last, because, no matter what I do, she'll always come back to me. I control Marissa Cooper."

"Like hell you do," she screamed, making everyone pause to look at her. "Let him go, Luke," Marissa spit out furiously. "NOW!"

"Well, would you look at this," her ex turned around to face her, his buddies still holding Ryan back. Letting his fingers skim over her bare arm, he taunted, "you know seeing you this angry always gets me hot, babe. Are you getting this worked up for me?"

"Don't touch me," she sneered, attempting to pull back, but his right hand moved up to grab a rough hold around the back of her neck, keeping her close to him.

"Get her out of here, Seth," Ryan's voice broke through the silence, earning him another kick that knocked the wind out of him from one of Luke's friends. A threatening glare in Seth's directions made him freeze in place.

"We're over, Luke," Marissa tried to rationalize with her ex, his touch making her shiver in disgust. "There's no reason for you to do this. Just let Ryan go."

"Beg for him," the cold, drunk man instructed her. "If you want him so bad, beg for him…just like you begged me to stop all those years ago." Tears escaped her clenched eyes as his free hand snaked down to forcefully fondle her thigh, easing it up and under her dress. "It's either that or you come back with me to my room right now."

"Ward, I swear to god, if you do anything to her," Ryan called out before he was hit again, viciously punched so hard his head snapped back.

"I can't be with you," Marissa whispered, her voice, though quiet, firm, "and I won't let you hurt him." With that, she whipped her eyes open, spit in her ex's face, and lifted her leg and kneed him as cruelly as she could. As his hands flew off her body to desperately clutch himself in pain, she elbowed him in the throat, effectively making it so that he could barely breathe, and kicked him in the stomach. Watching him fall to the ground in pain, she glared down at her ex. "Now tell your gofers to let him go!"

Still stubborn, Luke asked, "who," only to receive her heel right to his crotch. "Jesus, Marissa, what are you trying to do, make it so that I can't have children?"

"If so, I'm doing both your fiancé and those un-actualized children a favor. Now let Ryan go!"

Grimacing, he barked, "do it."

As soon as Ryan was released, she lifted her foot and ran towards him, dropping to her knees to see if she could help him. Within seconds, the men and the crowd which had been watching the scene dispersed, leaving Ryan and Marissa alone with only Seth.

"Can you help me get him over to one of the lounge chairs under the canopy by the pool," she asked her childhood friend, and, between the two of them, with Ryan's arms draped across their shoulders, they moved him so that he could rest and relax. "Thanks, Seth," she flashed the brunette beside her a grateful smile. "I'd hate to ask more, but, if it's not that big of an inconvenience, could you get him a couple of ice packs?"

"Sure," he agreed quickly, nodding his head. "Is there anything else? Should I call for a doctor?"

"No doctor," Ryan spoke up, flashing him a tentative smile. "I'm fine, really. Nothing I haven't had before." Seth nodded his head to show he understood and disappeared after the ice packs, leaving them alone.

"It shouldn't have happened to you tonight," Marissa lamented, "and the only reason it did was because of me." Her gentle fingers caressed his bruised and bloodied face, tears, once again, welling in her eyes as she looked at him. "You didn't sign up for this. I'm so sorry, Ryan."

"Hey," he gained her attention by grabbing her hand and linking their fingers together, kissing her palm before speaking again. "I'm not sorry. You have no idea how satisfying it was to hit that son of a bitch."

Laughing, she teased, "I think I have an idea. I know how good it felt when I hit him….each time. He deserved more, but it was a start."

"You were quite impressive."

"Well, my Mom's idea of mother-daughter bonding is taking a self-defense course, and that was the result."

Sobering quickly, he let go of her hand to tenderly whisper his finger across the fine line of her cheekbone. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Quit worrying about me. I'm fine. You're the one who looks like he just stepped out of a boxing ring after ten rounds."

He laughed. "Way to boost a guy's ego there, Cooper."

"Does this help," she asked, settling down to straddle his waist and lean her forehead to rest against his, "I think you're damn sexy when you're angry."

His eyes sparkled. "You do, do you?"

"Uh huh," Marissa responded. Without thinking, she lowered her lips to the corner of his mouth, placing a gentle kiss against the skin that was just starting to bruise. When his eyes fluttered closed, she became worried. "Did I hurt you?"

"You kissing me could never hurt," he revealed, smiling wickedly. "In fact, after the beating I took in your name, I think I deserve another kiss."

Obliging him, she left a trail of soft embraces across his jaw line, stopping to kiss his chin before peering deeply into his gaze. "Feel better?"

"A little." After his answer, she slid away from his body, standing up. "What are you doing?"

"I'll be right back," she promised, her sapphire orbs alight with excitement, delight, and a shiver of mischievousness. "I just thought we could use some privacy." Turning her back to him, she untied the sheers that were pulled back to reveal the surroundings to those underneath the canopy. By letting them fall, gauzy curtains closed off the small space surrounding the lounge chair, providing them with a sense of seclusion. As she walked back to him, kicking off her sandals in the process, he held out his hands to help her back down onto the chair with him. "Because of earlier," Marissa pointed out, "I never got to tell you about my evening…or what I bought."

"Will I like it?"

"I hope so," she confessed, grinning impishly. "After all, I picked it out with you in mind."

Interested, Ryan asked, "when can I see it?"

"How about now," she offered. "I'm wearing it underneath my dress."

Her hands dropped to his chest, her long, nimble fingers working to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Once it was completely open, she pushed the separated pieces of fabric aside and dropped her head to place steaming, open mouthed kisses along his chest and abdomen. While her lips danced across his chest, her fingernails would rake across the ravines of his defined stomach, and, if her mouth moved down to find the light, blonde trail of hair that led below into his pants, her hands would travel up to his chest and rub intimately against his hardened nipples. Within moments, Ryan was aroused, aching to touch her, to caress her, to take her to heights of passion she had never experienced before, but, before he could, he needed to make sure she really wanted to be with him, not the man she had paid $5,000 to escort her to her ten year high school reunion but the man who had held her the night before to help her get to the sleep, the man who had flirted with and teased her all afternoon, the man who had fought her ex for her after the jerk had insulted her, his true self that he had tried to show her since the moment he had laid eyes upon her gorgeous, innocent, breathtaking face.

"Wait," he finally called out, his hands moving to gently cup her jaw and bring her eyes up to look at him, "are you sure you want to do this?"

"Ryan," she confessed with a slight blush stealing upon her cheeks, "I've been attracted to you since the moment I saw you, and, after everything you've done for me this weekend, after all the sweet things you've said to me, this has been all I've been able to think about." Swallowing thickly, she reached up and untied the halter straps which were holding her dress up, letting it fall down from her chest to reveal part of the lingerie she had picked out for him that evening. "Make love to me, Ryan."

And he did. As their bodies joined together to become one, her embraces healing and sensitive as she strived to take care of his battered body, his adoring and ardent in his desire to show her how beautiful, how amazing she really was, the rest of the world disappeared. They forgot that they were outside under a curtained canopy beside the hotel pool, they never heard Seth approach from the patio doors, recognize that they had closed themselves off for privacy, and then disappear back into the hotel, and they ignored the fact that they had only met the day before for it felt as if they had known each other their whole lives. They were connected, physically, mentally, and emotionally, they complimented each other, and, at least for that one night, they were a part of each other. Neither had ever experienced something so right before, so natural, so exquisite, and, while they could, they would hold onto it and each other as tightly as they could.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

She had heard of those pesky little proverbial birds and their incessant chirping, the after-sex glow all women were supposed to have the morning following a particularly _entertaining _night with a man, a glow that was supposed to seduce said man into another round in the shower, and the pleasant warmth and accompanying soreness members of her sex were known for feeling in muscle groups previously unthought-of let alone used properly, but Marissa had no idea those things would be so….good. For the first time in her life, she woke up with a man's arms wrapped around her nude body, his lips brushing tenderly across the nape of her neck, his ministrations sending whispers of pure passion and extreme contentment racing down her spine, his chest pressed intimately against her back so that when he breathed, she would swear she could feel the very life in his body being passed into her own, and his legs saucily entwined with hers, their feet occasionally wrestling for playful control. From that point on, their morning had just continued to get even better.

As the unlabeled couple stood patiently in the moving elevator as it carried them from their floor to the main level of the hotel, she couldn't help but go over the past few hours she had spent with Ryan. After making love outside on the patio by the pool, – and, yes, Marissa told herself, it was making love, because sex had been what she had experienced with Luke, and being with Ryan was nothing like that – she had fallen asleep in his arms, completely exposed to the world and feeling safer than she ever had previously in her life. By the time she woke up, they were in their room, and he was trying to figure out a way to help her into her pajamas without rousing her. For several minutes, she had remained lounging on the bed, her eyes greedily drinking in Ryan's form as he searched through her luggage for a nightgown, his cheeks burning crimson whenever his hands brushed against a piece of her lingerie despite the fact he had been as close to her physically and emotionally as a man could get a mere hour before, and, seeing his embarrassment made her want to be with him even more than she had the first time. So, she let him come back to the bed, undress her, and place the nightgown onto her body, all the while pretending to still be asleep just because she wanted to experience the feeling of him undressing her again before they made love for a second time.

And he had done just that – gladly. She had waited for him to slip into the bed beside her, and, as his hand came into contact with the silk of her pajamas when it gently skimmed her stomach, Marissa had directed him to move his attentions lower, her voice deep and husky with desire, until his rough, masculine fingers gripped the edge of the nightgown and whisked it off her already aroused body. So, in bed, the first and, in her opinion, hopefully not the last bed they had ever shared, Ryan had made love to Marissa slowly, decadently, adoringly, only to pull her against his quivering form when they were finished to hold her close and urge her exhausted body to rest, promising her in that one simplistically beautiful embrace that she could put her walls down for the night and he would protect her heart with his own.

Then the morning had arrived, a morning she had been dreaming of while asleep and dreading at the same time. While, on one hand, dawn would bring her back to Ryan, it could have also brought regret on his part, shattering her whole world. Lucky for her, all the morning brought was another round of intense, mind-blowing, tender love making in bed and an electrifyingly fast and hard quickie in the shower…just as all those romance novels had promised her at such a young age. Though it had happened later in her life than she had hoped, everything else about their relationship, in Marissa's eyes, was perfect. They had the instant attraction, the easy friendship, the comfortable, lighthearted banter and flirting, and the addictive, almost destructive physical chemistry.

So, when they walked into the dining room that morning, late, once again, for a planned event – breakfast with her class' former administrators – she had assumed the stares, whispers behind their backs, and giggles were because everyone there already knew about their late night liaison by the hotel pool and could tell by the sparkle in her eyes and the proud smirk on Ryan's face that there had been a repeat performance in their room…many repeat performances, and, embracing the attention and wanting to let everyone know she wasn't embarrassed, Marissa buried her head in Ryan's neck, kissed the underside of his jaw, and wrapped her arm just a little bit tighter around his waist, dropping her hand to possessively graze low against his hip. He seemed to like the attention, but, before he could reciprocate with his own similar, territorial grasp, Seth was at their side, dragging her by the arm towards the prohibited, 'no guests allowed' hallway that led to the kitchen. Ryan followed.

"Everyone knows," Seth whispered frantically, gesturing in a wide, distracted manner which was meant to indicate the room of people they had just left behind. Looking pointedly at her, he stressed, "and they know everything!"

"Oh, I doubt that," Marissa snorted, laughing slightly. Unable to contain her impish grin, she continued. "Remember, I was Luke's glorified whore for years, so I was definitely not a virgin last night, but Ryan showed me there were many things I didn't know, and I have a feeling most of those women out there with their cookie cutter relationships and country club existences have no clue either."

"That's nice," the wiry brunette grimaced, "a little bit of an over share, but bully for you. However, we're talking about two different things here, although your choice of words is somewhat appropriate."

"Is he always this neurotic and ambiguous," Ryan asked, sneaking up behind the former friends and letting his arms wind around Marissa's waist. She leaned back into his touch.

"Trust me," she teased, turning her head around to place a chaste kiss on his cheek, "this is Seth on a good day." Moving back to look at her childhood neighbor, she instructed, "just tell it to us straight. We're hungry," she ignored his mumbled 'I bet you are' before continuing, "and you know how cranky I get when I haven't had any coffee in the morning after a long night, and, trust me, Cohen, it was a _long_ night."

"Fine," he agreed. "They know about you and Ryan, about this weekend, about…"

"I don't care what they think they know," she interrupted, pulling away from Ryan and grabbing his hand so he would walk with her back into the dining room, disregarding the panicked, worried expression in her friend's eyes. "What happens between us is our business, not theirs."

"But that's just it," Seth countered, trailing after them. "They know everything about what's happened between you guys." That got her attention, and she turned around to face the curly haired man. "From what I've been able to figure out, Luke got jealous and then he got pissed off after last night, and you know nothing good comes from that combination."

"Just spit it out," she demanded, suddenly worried. "What exactly did Luke do?"

"He had Ryan investigated, called in some favors with this P.I. he knows, and made him get out of bed last night to do a background check on him, and, what he found out, well, he's telling everyone who's willing to listen. I think he even had an announcement printed out in brail for that guy we went to school with who's both deaf and blind." When it appeared as if the news hadn't yet sunk in, he pressed. "Everyone knows that you hired Ryan to be your date this weekend, Marissa, that's he's an escort."

"No," she declared adamantly, both retreating from Seth as if his words were physically hurting her and pulling away from Ryan's arms at the same time. Tears instantly clouded her beautiful, blue eyes, eyes that had just minutes before been filled with nothing but joy and an excitement for life. "They don't understand," she whispered vehemently. "It's not like that; it's not that simple."

"I'm so sorry, Marissa," Ryan attempted to apologize, trying, once again, to offer her emotional solace and a source of comfort, but she shoved aside his arms as he went to hug her.

"Don't," she ordered, instantly bringing pain to his easy-to-read gaze. "Don't touch me."

Just as quickly as the hurt had entered his expression, it disappeared, turning his appearance into one of unfeeling ice. "Fine," he agreed. "If that's what you want, consider it done." With that, Ryan walked away from her, and, without even showing a single person in the large room he noticed them or their snickers, he disappeared through the doors and into the lobby, never looking back at the woman who had just so easily dismissed him.

"What are you doing," Seth asked her, harshly breaking through the guarded walls Marissa had erected around herself. He had watched the brief and cold interaction between the couple who had practically been walking on clouds when they had first appeared in the dining room and wondered how exactly his friend could control her emotions so easily, how she could hurt someone she so obviously cared deeply for. "Were you trying to push him away, because I have to hand it to you, you sure as hell…," but his reproach was cut off by a very indignant, extremely outraged, artificially apologetic Summer Roberts.

"You poor thing," the petite brunette lamented on her former classmate's behalf. "First, the love of your life dumps you just days before your wedding, and then the first man you trust after months of barely fighting off your depression tricks you into dating him, telling you he's a party coordinator when he's really a," her voice became lower, almost conspiratorial, "a male prostitute. I know people are saying that you hired him to be your date for the weekend so that you wouldn't be embarrassed about still being single after so long, but I don't believe it, and I told them that. I said 'Marissa's not that desperate, and, even if she was, her Mom would have set her up with someone. Julie Cooper would never let her daughter hire a man-whore.'" Without any notice of the shocked and fairly traumatized expression on Seth's face and the waves of palpable rage rolling off of Marissa, Summer continued. "Don't you worry though, I know exactly what you need. We'll take off this week, just you and me, and have a girl's retreat at a spa. A little wine, a little pampering, and a little fun with a masseuse, and you'll be as good as new. I know you and the…gigolo did something last night, because, honey, let me tell you, you've got the sex walk, but the best way to get over rebound sex is to just have another meaningless fling. Jean Paul, at the spa, he's been aiding me in this department for years, and I'm sure he'd be more than willing to help you out, too, once we explained the situation. He's very accommodating."

"Shut up," Marissa said calmly, slicing through the other woman's insulting digression. However, when the brunette went to say something else, to question the order, Marissa raised her voice and screamed the command again. "I said shut up!" Summer's only response was a mild squeak of surprised fear. As the tall blonde took a step closer towards her fidgeting opponent, a hush fell over the crowded dining room. "You're a hypocrite who doesn't understand basic human kindness, loyalty, or love. You take my personal relationships and twist them around to fit into some scandalous mold that better suits your own warped opinion of the world than what reality dictates. You'd rather imagine that I was a suicidal mess after **I** broke off my engagement to Luke instead of simply accepting the fact that maybe a woman doesn't always need a man in life, that I was not the type of woman to jump into a romance with the first man who appeared available. You'd rather make me out to be a naïve victim who was conned into spending a weekend with a man who is, according to your stuck up snobbery, beneath me instead of realizing that, yes, I did hire Ryan to be my date, yes, I was desperate to find someone because my Mother filled out my reservation for a couple, and, no, I don't regret spending this time with him, spending last night with him, and the reason you would rather ignore these things and not confront the truth is because, by admitting that I have violated the rules of polite society, you, by association, feel as if you've betrayed the social standards that dictate your life. But what truly disgusts me," Marissa continued, laughing - she was on a roll, enjoying the chance to finally speak her mind, and she wasn't going to stop until she had said everything she needed to – "is that what you do is worse than what Ryan does. Sure, I'll admit, it wouldn't be my first choice for him to be an escort, but, as he says himself, he's simply a companion for hire, a platonic companion, but you, you take advantage of your masseuse because he's simply a blue collar worker and expect him to sleep with you. After all," she seethed, "you're already on your back and he's already been paid, why not disrespect and violate him as well?"

"You make it sound as if I rape him!"

"Don't you," Marissa spit out. "Perhaps you don't use physical force, but you sure as hell use your money, your power, and your influence to make sure that he has no will of his own, no voice to say no, because you and I both know that if he did try to turn you down, you'd run to his boss, level some trumped up charges against him, and have him fired long before your new manicure even had a chance to dry." Moving towards the door to leave, she paused briefly and turned around the face the dumbstruck crowd. "Ryan and I might not be perfect," she admitted with a dismissive shrug, "but at least we don't lie to ourselves about who we are. We don't cheat on the people we claim to love," she glared at Luke before moving on, "we don't use other people with complete disregard for anyone else's feelings," she directed her second indictment at Summer, "and we don't judge a man before we get to know him," her final accusation was meant for the entire group watching her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I suddenly seem to have no appetite."

With a saucily flip of her hair, Marissa pushed her way out of the room, never once looking back to see her former audience's reaction or waiting to find out if someone was following her, for she already knew that Seth, the only person in that room she wanted to ever see again, was just steps behind her.

"I've got to hand it to you, Cooper," he applauded with a genuine smile on his face, "that scene back there, it would have even made Sandy Cohen proud."

"No offense, Seth, but your Dad is the furthest thing from my mind right now."

"It's the eyebrows," the brunette mused understandingly. "It takes a unique woman to get passed them."

Ignoring his comments, she pressed, "I don't know what to do. Telling off a bunch of spoiled Newport princesses and their equally as judgmental male counterparts was easy, but getting Ryan to forgive me, yeah, not so much. Maybe he'd be better off without me. I mean, look at my track record, look at my family, look at what this town does to people. Ryan doesn't deserve that."

"Whoa, where is this defeatist attitude coming from? Where is that idealistic, all big eyes and freckles seven year old little girl who convinced me it was a good idea to hide underneath the service carts at the country club so we could sneak into the kitchen, steal the veal they were serving for dinner that night, and then throw it in the pool to protest the killing of baby cows?" His reminiscing of the past made her smile, so he continued. "What happened to the rebellious eighteen year old who turned our high school graduation into an anti-war, peace rally? I swear, the look on your Mother's face will haunt me in my dreams for the rest of my life." That memory garnered him a small peal of laughter. "And don't you think that I don't know about what you did in college. I've heard all about how you organized a campus wide strike to fight for better healthcare and benefits for the cafeteria workers, and you won. That Marissa Cooper, the girl who did those things, she always fought for what she believed in, so I guess the question is, do you believe in Ryan enough to fight for him?"

"You're a good friend, Seth," Marissa whispered emotionally, pulling her childhood playmate into a close embrace. "Thank you. I don't know how I'll ever repay you for everything you've done for me today, but thank you."

"You don't owe me anything."

"No, I do," she said. After a moment, she let go of him and stepped back only to smirk with mischief. "I'm going to set you up, and I have the perfect girl in mind." Before he could respond, beg her not to do any such thing, she had disappeared into an elevator and he was left standing in the middle of the lobby by himself. He knew that look on his friend's face; it eerily resembled her Mother's expression of impish scheming. No this blind date she had in mind was not a good idea, not a good idea at all. He was in trouble, deep, Grand Canyon-esque trouble.

\ \ \

"I didn't think you'd show up here." Ryan's tone was void of all emotion. "Your money's on the bedside table. I'm leaving now, making our contract null and void, and, since I'm the one breaking it, you get your money back." Without stopping his packing, he continued. "Besides, after what happened between us last night, there's no way I could take your money."

Tentatively, she took a step closer to him and beseechingly spread her hands out in front of her. In a shy voice, she asked, "what did happen between us last night?"

"I don't know, Marissa," he countered, angrily turning around to confront her. "Why don't you tell me, because what we shared meant something to me, and I thought I meant something you, too?"

"You do," she promised him, but he cut her off by slicing his hand through the air.

"Unless you can tell me exactly what you feel, don't say anything at all."

"So that's it," she choked on a sob. "You're giving me an ultimatum, do this or else?"

"After everything that's happened between us this weekend, I think I at least deserve the truth."

"Fine," she yelled, giving in. Immediately, her voice dropped to almost a whisper, and she looked down to play with her suddenly cold and clammy fingers. "I…I care about you."

"Not good enough." He pushed passed her, making his way towards the door, but she desperately reached out for his arm and attempted to hold him back. "Let me go, Marissa."

"No," she whimpered, the tears falling fast and freely down her pale cheeks. "I won't let you go; I can't."

Turning around, he asked her, "why not?"

"Because what we shared mattered to me, too," she admitted softly, her gaze burning into his and begging him to believe her. "Because you matter to me, and I know that if I let you walk out that door right now, you'll never look back, and I'll never see you again." Dropping her eyes, she stared at the front of his shirt, her fingers instinctively reaching out to play with the hem of it. The gesture was intimate, strikingly naïve, and Ryan could not walk away from her. "And I don't think I want to live my life without you in it."

His tone was softer, gentler than it was before. "You still haven't told me how you feel."

"I don't know, okay," she yelled, moving away from him. "I mean, how strong could my feelings really be? We've known each other for less than forty-eight hours." He remained silent, letting her work through her thoughts on her own but, nonetheless, wanting her to say the words he felt. "Sure," she admitted, continuing, "when you look at me, you make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, like you will keep me safe and protect me from anything or anyone. When you touch me, it literally feels as if my skin is on fire, but it's a good burn, one that I've never felt before with another man, one that I've only just found but can't seem to stop thinking about or wanting all the time. And when you hold me at night in your arms, it feels like I've come home, but how am I supposed to make sense of these feelings? The only marriage I've observed closely was my parents', and it was not about love but mutual indifference and need. The only relationship I've been in myself was a disaster. Luke never loved me, and I know I never loved him, but, at the same time, I don't think I know what love is. What I do know is that I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay here with me for the rest of the day, I want you to take me home tonight and stay over, and I want you to want me, too. What I know is that I have never felt this way about anyone else before, and, while I also know I might be wrong and what I'm about to say is probably going to scare you away, I think," her voice trailed off as she took a deep breath to steady herself, only speaking again at a much more rapid pace, so quickly, in fact, that Ryan had a hard time understanding her. "IthinkImightbefallinginlovewithyou."

"That's all you had to say," he teased her, dropping his suitcase and crossing the room to gently take her in his arms. "Think of all the oxygen you could have just saved yourself if you would have just said that last statement first." Annoyed at his taunting, she went to free herself from his grasp, but he wouldn't let her. "Now, this is what we're going to do," he instructed. "You're going to repeat what you just said but much slower this time, and then I'm going to respond." Her displeased glare made him chuckle." I promise, it's a good response."

Rolling her eyes, she conceded. "I think I might be falling in love with you. There," Marissa challenged him, "happy now?"

"Very," he replied, cutting off her smart retort by placing a delicate kiss on her pursed lips. Pulling away, he admitted. "It's a good thing you feel that way, because I know that I'm falling in love with you, have been since the moment you presented your can't live with them, can't kill them without facing jail time mother quandary."

"Really," she questioned him, the tears pooling in her eyes contradicting her ecstatic smile illuminating her gorgeous face.

"Really," Ryan stated without any doubt. "Come here," he urged her, tightening his grip around her slight frame and pulling her into an intimate hug, and she buried her face into his neck.

"I'm sorry," she apologized profusely. "I've never really had anyone there to stand beside me during the bad times in my life, well, besides my Mom and sister, and I just reacted instinctively and pushed you away. I don't want to do that though, but I'll understand if you're mad at me or if I have to regain your trust or if…"

"Marissa," he interrupted her, bringing his hands up to delicately cup her face. "It's okay. Like you said, we've known each other for less than forty-eight hours; there's bound to be a few misunderstandings here and there and even a couple of fights. It's only normal when people are dating."

"We're dating," she asked him happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her so that she could rest their foreheads together.

"I've met your cats, I've driven your car, you've introduced me to your friends…well, friend, we've gone golfing together and out to fancy dinners, but, most importantly, we've also made love four times during the last twelve hours. If that doesn't constitute dating, I don't know what does."

"So then you're my boyfriend?"

"And you're my girlfriend," he agreed, dropping another whispering kiss across her lips, but, when she went to deepen it, he pulled away. "Now, though, we have to figure out what we're going to do."

"What do you mean what are we going to do? There's a beach party this afternoon, and I have a new bikini I think you might enjoy. It's black, the bottoms tie at my hips, and the top, well, let's just say that it leaves little to the imagination."

"You keep that up," he threatened her playfully, his voice a low, husky growl, "and we won't be going anywhere anytime soon." Clearing his throat, he continued, wrapping his arms around her neck as well. "No, but seriously, we don't have to stay. I mean, do you really want to spend the rest of your weekend with those people downstairs?"

"I want to spend the rest of my weekend with you, I want to go swimming with you, because I've heard kissing someone underwater is amazing, and I want to show everyone I went to school with that we're together and that their opinion of us doesn't matter."

"Then put that itsy-bitsy teeny-tiny bikini on," he ordered, giving her a light pat on her tempting derrière to get her moving. "And I'll get changed, too."

"Ryan," she hesitated in the doorway of the bathroom. "We're going to have to talk about some things, like where we go from here, telling my Mom…."

"We will," he agreed. "Today we're just going to have some fun, but, tonight, in bed, we'll talk."

"Okay, tonight." With that, she slipped into the bathroom to put her bathing suit on. However, Ryan couldn't help but notice that she left the door open, a sign of her complete trust, he realized, and, in that moment, he had never felt more content in his life. He had found the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he would do everything in his power to keep her at his side….forever.

\ \ \

"She looks happy," Summer announced, sitting down beside Seth on the blanket he was, at the moment, keeping from blowing away. "They both do."

"They are, so why don't you go and crawl back under the rock you came out of so that you don't do or say something to ruin it."

"Look, Steve," she hissed, turning around to glare at him beneath her overly large, designer sunglasses. "I didn't come over here to talk to you."

"It's Seth," he corrected her, "and why doesn't that surprise me?"

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

"To like you would imply that I would actually know you, and I don't. We went to school together for fifteen years if you include playschool, preschool, and kindergarten, and no matter how many times I tried to speak with you, you either ignored me or insulted me until the point where I realized you weren't worth my time."

"Funny coming from the boy who took his grandmother to his senior prom," Summer smirked at him.

"Hey, say what you will, but the Nana knows a thing or two about cutting a rug, and, even if she didn't, you already said you're not here to talk to me." Eyeing her closely, Seth ordered, "so why don't you tell me what you really want."

"I came over to apologize to Marissa."

"Well, aren't you worthy of sainthood now? I'd give you a bozo button, but, really, why waste the resources, and, as for the chest, Daddy already gave that to you."

"Do you know what," she huffed, standing up and, in the process, kicking sand across the blanket and onto Seth, "I'm about this close to pulling you up by those ridiculously girly curls of yours and kicking your ass, so either back off or I'll make you!"

"Hey, Seth," Marissa approached them, startling both the furious woman and the incredulous man she was preparing to attack. "Ryan said to tell you that he's ready for that barbequing lesson you offered him."

"It's been a pleasure **verbally **sparing with you, Roberts, but, next time," the gangly man quipped as he stood up, "bring your A game."

Marissa waited for him to disappear before turning back to Summer. "I didn't expect to see you on this side of the beach. There's clearly been a line drawn between Seth, Ryan, and I and the rest of the class. What do you want?"

"Listen, I'm not going to pretend that I understand your decisions, but I can respect them. You said some really harsh things to me this morning, and, despite how much it pains me to admit it, you were right. Before I start dumping on someone else's life, maybe I should reexamine my own." Taking a deep breath, she took her sunglasses off before continuing. "You and me," Summer gestured between them, "we're probably never going to be good friends; we're just too different, but that doesn't mean that we can't say hello when we see each other around town or share an affable conversation at the next reunion. What I'm trying to say," she changed directions, "is that I'm sorry. The things I said to you this morning, the things I said about Ryan, they were uncalled for, and I was wrong. I just hope there will be no hard feelings between us."

"Well, considering the fact that you're the only one who's been willing to risk being seen talking to me since my tantrum this morning, I think you've already proved you're a bigger, better person than the rest of those narrow-minded hypocrites. As for your apology, I accept it and offer one of my own. While I don't take back what I said," Marissa cautioned, "I do regret how I said it and where. You didn't deserve to be embarrassed in front of a room full of your friends, and I definitely could have been a bit nicer about the things I said." Putting her hand out, she offered the brunette a truce. "Can we just put this behind us and move on?"

"I'd like that," Summer agreed with a small smile, "but I should let you go, because, by the looks of things," she pointed down the beach towards a large grease fire, an alarmed Ryan, and a rambling Seth, "you're needed somewhere else. See you around, Marissa."

"You, too," the blonde agreed, nodding her head once before taking off down the beach. However, even after she left, Summer stayed behind, watching the three friends interact. She saw Ryan hastily close the lid to the grill before laughing at something Seth said and joining Marissa's side. While the self-proclaimed barbeque expert tried again to make them lunch, the smitten couple retreated, once again, back to the ocean to play in the water, dunk each other, and steal kisses whenever they felt no one was watching. After a while, Summer walked away and moved back up the beach towards the hotel with one thought on her mind: if Ryan could make Marissa that happy, perhaps it was time for her to find her own companion for hire.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: This is the final chapter of this ficlet. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Unlike normal, I'm not going to replace this story with a new one. Instead, I want to focus on the three stories I currently have started, write more one shots, and participate more requently in a fic challenge community I help run. I've been doing a lot of planning lately on Margie's Model to Motherhood, and I'm getting excited for that story. If I were a gambling woman, I'd wager for another update this Friday...but that's just me. ;) Thanks everyone!_

Charlynn

Chapter Five

It didn't seem to matter that they had been meeting for their weekly Mom and Daughter Sunday brunches for years, because Julie always seemed to find a way to be late. Rain or shine, winter, spring, summer, or fall, at her house or Marissa's, the flamboyant older woman was never on time. However, as Marissa sat on her back patio, lounged out in a relaxing position by the pool with her feet dangling in to relieve her body of the sweltering Southern California July heat, she didn't really mind that her Mom was late. Instead, she was simply enjoying the peace and quiet of a house all to herself. As soon as Julie got there, their hours spent together would be anything but peaceful or quiet, and she needed all the rest she could get.

Eyes closed, head tilted back to let the sun's rays wash over her tranquil body, she silently organized the week to come, making last minute decisions and plans to finalize the arrangements for her fifteenth high school reunion. Her life had changed so much since her tenth reunion, that Marissa had volunteered to design the fifteenth to ensure that it was family friendly, stress-free, and, instead of three days of torture, only one. The sound of four inch stilettos clicking against the terracotta tiles of her patio broke through Marissa's thoughts and shattered her concentration, alerting her to the fact that the infamous Julie Cooper had arrived….and she was only twenty minutes late.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," the older woman apologized as she hastily made her way towards her daughter. Turning around, Marissa watched as her Mother proceeded to take off sunglasses, a silk scarf that was tied around her face to hide most of her features, and a blonde wig. "I tried to get her on time," the natural red head continued, "but it couldn't be helped. There was just something that I had to do." Finally noticing her daughter's position by the pool, she stopped, forgot her reason for running behind, and watched the younger woman closely. "Is something wrong, Marissa? You're feeling alright, aren't you?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Waving a perfectly manicured hand towards her daughter, Julie explained, "your face looked pinched. I just wanted to make sure that it wasn't from pain."

"Just confusion." Swinging her legs out from the chlorine water, the blonde went to stand up, using her arms to help balance her slightly awkward body and to push herself away from the ground. "What exactly did you mean when you said it was something you…"

Before she could finish, the older woman was at her side, chastising her as she helped her get to her feet. "What do you think you're doing? First of all, you know better than to sit on the ground in your condition. What if something happened and you couldn't get back up, or, worse, fell into the pool?"

"I don't know," Marissa quipped, annoying her Mom, "labor in a pool might feel good. It'd at least keep me cool."

"I'm not even touching that comment, because my blood pressure does not need the stress. Where's Ryan," Julie asked, looking around the back yard as if her son-in-law would magically appear at her command. "Does he know you were sitting out here by the pool alone? Probably not," she pressed on, not letting her daughter answer the question. "I'm going to call him, let him know what happened, and insist that he come back home immediately."

The redhead was already walking towards her purse which was strewn casually across the patio table before Marissa could respond. "Mom, leave Ryan alone. He took Colby out for some father-son time, just the two of them, and no," she interrupted before the older woman could ask, "he does not know that I was sitting out here by the pool, and he would not care. I'm only five months along. There's no reason to panic or lock me in a tower yet. I'm still very much capable of taking care of myself and the baby, and, when Colby's here and Ryan's out, I can take care of our son, too." With a huff of frustration, she collapsed into a cushioned chair beside the table and motioned for her Mom to join her. "Now, take a deep breath, pour yourself a drink, and tell me what has you so on edge. Does it have something to do with the disguise you arrived in?"

"The lemonade doesn't have any alcohol in it, does it?"

"Mom," the younger woman yelled in exasperation, throwing her hands up in defeat, "of course it doesn't! You know I can't drink, and, even if I could, it's 11:00 in the morning. Who needs a stiff drink this early?"

Opening her purse, Julie pulled out a small bottle of vodka. "Sweetie," she commented easily, a simple wave of her bejeweled fingers dismissing her daughter's concerns, "it's cocktail time somewhere in the world, and who am I to turn my nose up at another culture."

"I can't believe you carry a bottle of booze around in your purse. You know," the blonde retorted sarcastically, "if I didn't know you better, I'd think you had a drinking problem."

"Please, Marissa, this is Newport. Alcohol is a woman's self defense, a survival tool here, and, if you're going to play with the big boys and their wives like I do, you need to be prepared for anything. If there was a Newspie chapter of girl scouts, the first badge we would have to earn would be how to hide a bottle of Grey Goose on your person at anytime."

"Perhaps that could be your next book," the younger woman suggested, reaching for the pizza box, plates, and napkins arranged on the far end of the table. "I can just see it now sitting on a shelf at the bookstore: 'How-To Survive in the Wilds of Newport Beach, A How-To Guide of Self-Preservation, Self-Manipulation, and Self-Congratulations by Julie Cooper.'"

"You always suggest things as a joke or an insult," the redhead pointed out, casting a scathing look at the pizza box in front of her, "but most of them are actually good ideas. Maybe you should leave your job with Saks and come to work for your husband and I. You could be our official brainstorming team. After all, your very first suggestion, a How-To manual on great sex is still our best selling book in print. You also suggested that Ryan and I go into business together when I proposed the idea of a publishing company, you mentioned that he'd be great with How-To date books for both men and women….since he had a bird's eye view and perfected the experience into a career, and, after you gave birth to Colby, you came up with the idea of a 'Modern Man's Guide to Fatherhood.' Face it, Marissa Cooper Atwood, you're good at this. Hell, what if we really made this a family business, and you wrote a How-To Guide on Couture Shopping. Plus, while we're at it, we could get Caitlyn to pen a book on How-To Drive Your Mother to Insanity.'" Breaking through her monologue, her daughter tossed a slice of pizza onto Julie's plate, in the hope that food would make her stop talking. Instead, it made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. "What is that?"

"It's a spaceship," the younger woman joked, rolling her eyes at her Mother's revulsion towards their meal.

"I guess that somewhat makes sense," Julie agreed with the statement despite it being said in nothing but jest. Touching the slice of pizza as if it could at any moment attack her, she finally pushed her plate away, her aversion to the meal more than evident. "After all, those little fish could be the aliens."

Laughing at the comment, Marissa explained, "they're called anchovies, and I had a craving for them. I didn't sleep well last night, so I was tired this morning and didn't feel like cooking. I figured you wouldn't eat it though, so there is a small fruit pizza in the fridge that I ordered for you. Help yourself," she motioned towards the kitchen before taking a generous bite of her pizza. At her instance, the older woman moved into the house and returned moments later with a clean plate and food she deemed edible. "Now, let's try this one more time, and, perhaps, the this time will be the charm. Why were you dressed up in a disguise when you got here?"

"I was on a little reconnaissance mission," the older woman revealed, "and I had to remain anonymous. Our newest book is scheduled to be released on Tuesday."

"I know," the blonde stated. "Ryan told me about it. What's it called," she asked rhetorically, searching her mind for the title. "Oh, that's right, 'How-To Get a Divorce and Get Everything.' Obviously, that's one of your works."

"Damn straight," Julie concurred, "and if I ever see your husband within a fifty foot radius of a copy of it, I'll personally fit him for a pair of cement shoes."

"We're happy," Marissa quickly reassured her Mother. "Trust me, neither of us will be consulting that guide anytime soon. But, tell me more about this reconnaissance mission."

"Well, as you know, we test each new book with a research group in an attempt to gauge how popular it will be, how well it will sell, and to just get a general feedback on the content, but I have a better way to predict those things. There's this little, obscure bookstore in Laguna Beach where all the woman in this town go for the books they don't want their husbands, their boyfriends, or their neighbors to know that they're buying, and the Sunday before a release date, I take about a dozen books down to the store and just leave them on a shelf and pretend to browse while I watch for their responses. The lady who owns the bookstore says nothing and goes along with it, because, if she sells any, per our agreement, she keeps the entire sale as profit. It wouldn't work though if I went as Julie Cooper. I would get recognized, the women would be self-conscious, and, instead of being able to observe in obscurity, I would be hounded for autographs."

"Of course," the younger woman agreed, stifling her laughter behind her slice of pizza. After taking a bite, chewing, and swallowing, she asked, "and how did it go today?"

"Even better than I could have hoped. All twelve copies sold within the first hour. Plus," the redhead added with a devilish twinkle in her eye, "it gave me an idea for my next book: 'How-To Spot a Soon-to-Be Divorcee and the Steps to Reel Them In.'"

"And does Ryan know about these pre-release date scouting operations?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter," Julie dismissed her daughter's question. "Listen to me though. I've rambled on about myself for too long. Tell me what's been going on with you this week. How did your check up go? Ryan said both you and baby were healthy, but you know that man. A detailed description of events means including an adjective."

"There's not much else to say," Marissa chuckled at the accurate description of her husband's shy, often lacking communication skills when it came to his discussions with his mother-in-law. They might be business partners, but Julie Cooper still made him slightly uncomfortable. "I'm right on target with my weight, the baby's heartbeat was strong and steady, and the due date's still November 17th."

"And did you find out the sex?"

"No, and we're not going to. Ryan and I both want it to be a surprise, and, even though we won't have a lot purchased for the baby, I know that you can shop with the best of them, and, as soon as you know whether to search for blue or pink, we'll have a nursery full of clothes and toys before he or she is even brought home from the hospital." Smiling coyly as her hand automatically moved to cradle her burgeoning stomach, the glowing, younger woman added, "however, Colby thinks he already knows what I'm having. He keeps pointing to my stomach and saying brother."

"Mother's normally have a sense about this, too," the redhead urged her daughter on. "What do you think? Is Colby right? Are you going to give me another grandson?" Marissa didn't say anything, merely shrugged and took a bite of her pizza, but the smile in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks let the older woman know that her daughter and grandson were thinking the same thing. However, she had learned not to push her and to let her eldest child reveal things in her own time. "So, tell me about this reunion you have coming up. What do you have planned for it?"

"It's basically going to be a family fun day. There will be small rides for the kids, carnival games, swimming, and then fireworks at night. The food's going to simple, just things you would have at a barbeque: hotdogs, hamburgers, watermelon, chips, baked beans, pasta salad, potato salad, jello, homemade ice cream, basically stuff you would hate."

"Are you taking Colby with you, or do you need me to watch him?"

"Of course we're taking him with us," the blonde said quickly, turning down her Mother's babysitting offer. "I planned this day so that he would enjoy it, so that we could enjoy it as a family. In fact, if you want me to, I'm sure I could sneak you in somehow. After all, Caitlyn's going to be there, too, so you should come as well."

"Thank you, sweetie, but I think I'm going to have to turn you down. I can't picture myself outside on a hot, July Sunday afternoon when there's a perfectly good, air conditioned mall just waiting for me. Just remember to take your digital camera with you, okay?"

"I can do that," Marissa agreed with the older woman's request.

"Now, let's get back to my second grandbaby," Julie changed the subject again. "Have you thought about names yet?"

\ \ \

Summer Roberts was deep in thought as she walked through the park on her way to her fifteenth high school reunion. In the five years since their last reunion, she realized that, while many things in her life had changed, some hadn't at all. She still put herself and her own needs ahead of everything else in her life, she was still single though actively pursuing men of all ages and sizes as long as they had a properly filled bank account, and she was still prone to losing touch with people from her past. In fact, by occupying her time with traveling, she had managed to avoid almost every single person she had gone to high school with since the last time they were all gathered together to catch up. However, she was only curious about two people. She wondered if Marissa Cooper had been right all those years ago and if her ideas on life had led her to happiness, and she was looking forward to verbally sparring with Seth Cohen again. It had been awhile since she had been able to harass someone, and nothing gave her more pleasure than to insult the curly haired dork who seemed to always best her with a perfectly timed, sarcastic zingers. She was so lost in thought that she almost walked past the very people she was looking for…almost.

"Marissa," a soft toned, male voice asked in mock innocence, "I thought this was an animal free park, and, even if it's not, surely they don't let just any mangy, stray, female dog limp in here with her tail between her legs?"

Laughing, his friend responded, "Seth, what are you talking about. I don't see any….," but, before she could finish, a fourth adult joined their group.

"Ryan, Marissa, little boy with the adorable dimples, hello," Summer greeted the small family. "Death Breath, it's always a migraine inducing moment when I smell you again after so many years. What happened, did they let all the freaks from the freak show take a lunch break so they could associate with humans that lack physical abnormalities or severe personality defects?"

"Nope, they refused to allow a fine male specimen such as myself in the show, because they feared my supreme intelligence and masterful example of masculinity would give those less fortunate a complex. However, there's good news for you," the curly haired man teased with a smirk on his face. "I saw a flyer, and they're interested in hiring a woman without a heart. If you want, I'll give them your name and number."

"Scoot over, Cohen," she ordered the man sitting beside her, "and let a lady take a seat. I might be lacking a heart, but at least all my female parts are in fine working order unlike your blow up doll girlfriend."

"I can't move over," he returned without a hint of apology in his voice. "I'm saving this seat for my wife."

"You are not married," Summer dismissed his comment, "unless they lifted the incest ban in California and you married your Grandma."

"Seth," Marissa chided the brunette across from her. "Let her sit. There's room on the blanket for all of us." As he did what she said, she turned towards Summer and continued to talk. "And he is married."

"To a man?"

With a smile, the blonde haired woman responded, "no, it wasn't a civil ceremony, but he did elope."

"Is she terminally ill and needed someone to be in charge of her living will," the petite brunette guessed.

"Wrong again," Marissa countered, laughing. "She's very healthy and in the prime of her life. In fact, she's several years younger than Seth."

"So she married him for his money; she's a fortune hunter who thought he'd be her sugar daddy?"

"Trust me," Ryan spoke up for the first time, "Mrs. Seth Cohen does not settle for anyone, no matter what their bank statement says. Her mother, yes, she probably would, but Seth's wife did not marry him for his money."

"Then she's uglier than the love child of Tammy Faye Baker and Ross Perot?"

"Summer, do not insult your parents like that," Seth taunted her, earning himself an elbow to the ribs. "And, no, for your information, my wife is hot, very hot. We're still not sure exactly why she married me, but it's been almost five years now, and we're still together and happy with each other five out of every seven days of the week. Mondays and Thursdays prove to be our off days. However, I still see you're miserable and alone. I would say that I'm surprised that some lucky guy hasn't snatched you up already, but I'd be lying."

Hoping to curb another round of insults, Ryan broke into their war of words. "So, what have you been up to lately, Summer? None of us have seen you since the last reunion."

"I've been traveling, seeing the world, going from one tropical beach to another."

"Well, it's good to see that you're putting your Daddy's money and your shallow existence to good use," the wiry brunette beside her joked.

"And what have you done with your life, Cohen, besides strengthening the muscles in your right hand?"

"Seth actually owns his own t-shirt design company," Marissa spoke for her friend before he could reply. "All his witty comebacks and cynical comments have become quite profitable."

"What about you two," Summer asked, turning towards the couple before her. "Do you still work for Saks, and does Ryan still….?"

"Ryan works with my Mom. They own their own publishing company, and, yes, I still work for Saks, though I've scaled back my responsibilities so I can be home more with Colby." At the mention of his name, the little boy who was lying on his stomach while driving Hot Wheel cars up and down his Mom's legs laughed and flashed the adults a smile before turning back to his toys. "And then I'll probably cut back to part time after the baby arrives."

"You're pregnant again," the horrified brunette across from her exclaimed while Marissa simultaneously smoothed the fabric of her dress over her expanding stomach to reveal a five-month pregnant abdomen. "Two kids, are you crazy?"

"My Mom had two kids, and, after my Dad left, she raised us by herself. With Ryan by my side, it really doesn't scare me. In fact," the blonde revealed with a warm, beautiful smile, "we think we might try for a third in a few years."

"And what about you, Mr. 'I've been married for almost five years,'" Summer turned to an oblivious Seth at her side, "do you and this mysterious wife of yours have any kids?"

"Hell no," a fifth voice proclaimed loudly as it joined their group, "and you better not give him any ideas, because there's no way I'm popping out any miniature Seth's anytime soon."

Suddenly, quiet descended over the small group. With her mouth agape and her eyes large and full of shock, Summer starred wordlessly at the woman now seated across from her, her surprise only growing when the woman leaned in and kissed her husband on the cheek. Finally, she regained her ability to talk. "You're Seth Cohen's wife….you, Caitlyn Cooper married Death Breath Seth, the freak, the lifetime virgin, the president of the comic book, sailing, and Audio and Visual club? Does your Mother know about this?"

"I think she might have figured it out by now," the younger woman teased, biting back a laugh, "and, as for your assumption that my husband is a lifetime virgin, I have no idea what his sex life was like before we got married, but let me tell you that he's definitely not a virgin anymore."

"Can we please move past this conversation," Ryan asked, nodding his head towards his son who had a puzzled expression on his face. "Or, I have an even better idea. Why don't the three of you go off and talk in private, leaving me with a few peaceful moments with my family."

"You heard the man, Summer," Seth taunted, pointing towards the exit, "this is a family-only gathering, and, since you're not family, scoot, scatter, and be gone."

"I'm not going anywhere until I hear exactly how you managed to marry Caitlyn Cooper, and I don't want the simple newspaper announcement version; sign me up for the made for TV movie adaptation."

"It's not that complicated," Marissa revealed with a shrug. "I set them up on a blind date. Technically, it wasn't blind, because they knew each other beforehand, but they didn't know that they were going out with each other, and, when they got back to my Mom's house the next morning where I was having brunch with her, Caitlyn announced that they got married the night before."

"You eloped on the first date?"

"Well, to be honest," Caitlyn admitted, "we don't remember much about the actual ceremony or how we came to decide we should get hitched. What we remember is going up to the cliffs so we could sit and watch the stars after we finished dinner. I brought along some….refreshments, we smoked it together, and, the next thing that's clear is the two of us walking out of a tattoo parlor with matching wedding bands tattooed around our left ring fingers. I actually find the story to be pretty romantic."

"You would," the brunette across from her quipped with a roll of her eyes.

"Then, after that," Ryan filled in for his sister-in-law, "things just kind of happened for them. The parents immediately threw together a reception for them, they helped them find a house, Sandy pushed through the paperwork for Seth's business, and Julie talked Caitlyn into going back to school."

Curious, Summer asked, "for what?"

"I'm going to be a pharmacist," the younger woman answered. "Pretty appropriate, don't you think?"

"You've got to be kidding me," the non-family member of the group mumbled under her breath. Shaking her head slightly to remain focused, she continued to press for more information. "And, just like that, you two had a happy marriage? How? I mean, you didn't even know each other."

"It wasn't perfect at first," Seth revealed, taking his wife's hand in his. "In fact, it was pure hell. We fought about everything, considered getting divorced, but we hid it well, made our parents think we were happy, and, a year later and another night up on the cliffs with a baggy full of magic grass, we realized we actually did like each other, that we wanted to stay together no matter how hard it was going to be, so we used the divorce papers as rolling paper, and we've been together and moderately happy ever since."

Exasperated, Summer collapsed down unto her back and exclaimed with a sigh, "I need a drink."

"This is a dry picnic," Marissa pointed out. "Because everyone was to bring their kids if they had them, I didn't think it would be a good idea to…"

"Here you go," Caitlyn interrupted her sister, handing the distressed woman across from her a small bottle of vodka. "A Newport woman is always prepared for every situation. My Mom taught me that." Turning towards her older sibling who was simply watching her with frustration dripping from her expression, she chided, "I can't believe you don't know that rule. It's in Mom's top five. Anyway, I'm starving." Pulling her husband up with her, Caitlyn drug him with her towards the food tables, her voice lingering back to the group behind her. "I've got a killer case of the munchies. Do you think Marissa had the caterers bring any Cheetos….or stuff to make smores? Or, better yet," she yelled in excitement, jumping up and down, we should see if we could find some deviled eggs. Whatever we don't eat, we can throw inside Summer's car. By the time she leaves tonight, she'll never be able to get the smell of rotten eggs out of her precious porche!"

As the duo rounded a corner and disappeared, Summer sat up and turned to the married couple in front of her. "Suddenly, I can understand why they're with each other, and, once again, I've been shown that judging someone or something too quickly will only get me in trouble. I guess attraction really is random and up to chance, right? I mean, just look at the two of you. Your relationship started out anything but typical, but you're still together, you have a family, and you're happy. Imagine one little phone call to an escort service changing your life so much." After taking a long pull from the vodka in her hands, she continued. "I never would have predicted it, and that's probably why it works. Cheers!" And then, in front of a shocked Ryan and Marissa, she finished the small bottle of alcohol, tossed it into her purse, and stood up to walk away. Just another typical day in the life of a Newport socialite.

\ \ \

"You know, I've been thinking," Marissa whispered softly to her husband as she lay reclined in his arms that evening, the both of them watching the fireworks display as their son slept on beside them. "My Mom's been single for quite a few years now. Maybe it's time to try and set her up. You have to admit that my track record is pretty good. I found you, and then I set up my sister and Seth."

"You got lucky when you found me," he teased her, softening his words by raining a line of kisses along her bare shoulder, "and I think the pot had more to do with Caitlyn and Seth hitting it off than you did. If your Mom wanted to date someone, she would. I just think that Julie is happy with how her life is, that she doesn't want to be tied down to anyone."

Not satisfied with his response, she continued to press the idea. "Or maybe she just doesn't realize that she's unhappy, maybe she's settled for a life alone and thinks that there's no one out there for her."

"Baby, listen to me," Ryan pleaded, turning her around in his arms so that she was laying completely on top of him, their eyes connected. "You and I both know that your Mom doesn't settle for anything or anyone. She's the most stubborn, single minded, selfish woman I know, and that works for her. Do you really think she'd be happy with a steady relationship, because I don't? I think she likes having a different date every night, that she enjoys her reputation as a temptress. Besides," he added with a cheeky smile and a lazy kiss, "why are we talking about your Mom when we finally have a minute alone? Colby's knocked out for the night; he won't even wake up when I carry him to the car later. We finally got rid of your sister, her husband, and their self-appointed third wheel for the day, because they decided to go steal some firecrackers to take to Seth's parents and set off in the middle of the night, and there's no one else around to bother us. I can definitely think of a few things I'd rather do than talk about your Mom and her love life."

"Talk is overrated," Marissa agreed, giggling quietly as she wrapped her arms around her husband's neck. "Care to share some of those ideas with me?"

"Well, you do know what's coming up soon, don't you?"

"I might have an idea or two."

"What do you think about the two of us spending a weekend down in Cabo by ourselves? We'll leave Colby with your Mom. She's already agreed, so we don't have to worry about asking her. If she has something she has to do, I'm sure Caitlyn and Seth could handle the little rugrat for an hour or two. You'll already be on maternity leave, I can take off whenever I want, and we'll even leave our cell phones at home so that no one will bother us unless it's an emergency."

"It sounds perfect," she beamed at him, snuggling even deeper into his embrace. "But, I have to warn you, there will be no way you're going to get me out on a beach when I'm seven months pregnant." Sighing in jest, she bemoaned playfully, "I guess we'll just have to spend all our time in the hotel room. Whatever will we do with ourselves and all that uninterrupted alone time?"

"How about I show you instead of telling you," Ryan suggested, slipping his hands underneath the hemline of her sundress.

"We're starting the anniversary celebration a little early there, aren't we?" With laughter in her voice, she tried to wiggle away from his wandering hands. "Ryan, stop it," she exclaimed, sitting up and straddling him. When she moved, his hands left her legs alone and reached for the halter straps of her dress. "We're in public, and our son is sleeping just two feet away."

"I'll stop," he consented, "only if you agree that we can go home right now."

Standing up, she helped him gather their things while he picked up their little boy and carried him in his arms. "And what do you think is going to happen when we get home, Mr. Atwood? Do you think you're going to get lucky tonight?"

"No," he said in all seriousness. "I'm going to do some research for a new book." When the smile fell off her face and she started to turn away, hurt, he continued. "I think it's going to be called 'How –To Seduce Your Pregnant Wife, Ten Easy Steps Any Husband Can Follow.'"

"Oh, and you know what always gets me," she teased, sliding her free arm around his waist as they walked out of the park together, "you dress up as an escort, I pretend to be a poor, depressed, dateless woman wandering blindly through the single scene, and we act like we're 28 again."

Shaking his head at her antics, he asked, "you think you're cute, don't you?"

"You know you love me."

"You're right," he concurred, stopping their progression and leaning in to whisper a kiss across her lips. "I do love you."

"And I love you, too," Marissa returned, her lashes fluttering closed in response to the emotions washing through her body. After a moment, she opened her eyes and refocused them on her husband. "Now take me home," she mischievously ordered, "and I'll let you be my very own American Gigolo."


End file.
